Hinata's Lost Journals
by hellotaylin
Summary: I am hurt and broken, shattered. I don't even know who I am anymore. That was until I met him. He changed my life. I found my true self with him, I am in love with him. I want to work things out, he says he does too. Except there is one BIG problem. He's my Master and I am his submissive. I can't take this anymore..
1. Chapter 1

**BEFORE YOU READ..**  
>Know this is a second part of my Story If I Were You. I wouldn't really call it a sequel but call it as you wish lol.<br>Remember, this is Hinata's Journal, This story is going to have fillers to If I Were You.

A wrote this because many of you guys keep asking me what happened to Hinata. I know I have been focusing more on sasusaku and for a second I had completely forgot about Hinata. well.. here you go!

**I DO NOT OWN HINATA OR NARUTO OR ANYONE IN THE NARUTO SERIES**.

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><p>Hinata's Lost Journals<br>Journal 4, Entry 1.

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><p><em>Saturday, December 4, 2010<em>

Have you ever met someone who you immediately knew could change your life?  
>I've heard about this happening, but I never experienced anything near it until tonight. Tonight I met him. I don't know this man's name, nor does he know mine, but I still feel the impact of our brief meeting deep inside.<p>

I know where to find him again, but he doesn't know where to find me. I know how to figure out his name-but I won't. There are too many reasons why that would be a mistake. I can't allow myself to seek him out because he will, without question, lead me onto a path I know is better not taken. Already, I fear meeting him has stirred something inside me better left alone; something I crave, but I know I do not dare indulge in. I can't imagine this man not leaving his mark on many women-and most men, as well.

He owns the air around him, and yours, too... He's strikingly attractive, exuding raw masculine power. He is what I think we all secretly want to be: in control of everything we are and everything we might one day be.

I'd do anything to know and understand who I truly am. And I think that tonight, that was exactly what I was looking for: me. I just didn't realize it until I met him.

It started when I ended my shift at the bar and decided to go by the San Francisco Chocolate Factory and buy a box of chocolate to celebrate being alone. Ha ha that wounds like a bitter pity party thing to write, but it's not. It's officially a year today since I buried my mother, and instead of letting grief consume me, I'm trying to be positive. (Something I haven't done a lot of since then.) So... the positive to this day is that I, Hinata Hyuga, have survived, when I wasn't sure I would.

Somehow, though, instead of going straight to the chocolate store, I ended up two blocks away, standing outside the gallery I've dreamed of working at since way back when I started college five years ago. It just... happened. And at first it wasn't a good thing. One glimpse inside the gallery and the past year crashed-burying my mother, deciding my art degree was worthless for paying the bills, learning things about my life I wish I never had. It was a little piece of hell standing there, hurting for what I have lost and what I can't have.

The worst part? I still... I still crave my dream, to the point that I couldn't force myself to walk away without going inside the gallery. Not tonight, though I've spent a year away from that obsession. Not even the horrid waitress uniform beneath my long black leather coat could stop me from entering. I just buttoned up and went for it.

I walked inside, my bargain store heels clicking on the shiny expensive white tile, the soft sound of classical music playing in the background and I was in heaven. I just stood there, staring at the sleek glass displays of art, and I sighed inside. This place.. This is where I still wanted to be, and why I went to school. It's been my live since I was a child, trying to create my own Picasso, only to realize I'm no artist myself. My gift is an eye of art, a deep love for it I can share with others. If only such things paid real money. How did I think I could be one of the few people who actually made a living in an art gallery?

But I did... There was a time when I thought I could. When I thought dreams were meant to be chased. That was before reality grabbed me by the throat and choked me into eye-opening revelations.

But standing there in that gallery tonight, I shoved all of that aside and just lost myself in the experience. I strolled from display to display, absorbing the gift of viewing the work of some of the most famous artists in the city and from around the world. I was enjoying myself until a salesperson, a blond and rather curvaceous woman, approached me with a snooty look that said she thought I was beneath the gallery. The bite of her attitude aroused my own fear that she was right, that I didn't belong there. But then the old me, the one who used to fight for what she wanted, reappeared out of nowhere. After a quick smoothing of my ruffled feathers, I asked her a few pointed questions about a certain artist's work to test her knowledge. She bristled and made an excuse to leave me alone. I'd almost forgotten I had this cool composure inside me, and it felt amazing, rediscovering that part of myself.

I stayed there for an hour, until they were about to close, and then I reluctantly headed to the front door. That was when he walked in, and I pretty much did the schoolgirl "weak in the knees" wilt I'd have sworn I was incapable of. But this man... this man was impossibly overwhelming, and not just because he was sinfully good-looking. His eyes met mine and I froze, spellbound by his stare. I was aware of him in every cell of my being, in a way that I've never been aware of another man in my life.

I've been thinking of why that is. He was devastatingly handsome, but I've met gorgeous men before. It was more than his looks. It was definitely the edge of power and confidence he owned. The way he wore his perfectly fitted suit, rather than it wearing him. I keep telling myself his power and confidence was because he was a man, not a boy, at least a good seven years older than me. Surely that accounts for it-yet I can't imagine this man, even at twenty-two years old, not being what he is today.

Ultimately though, it wasn't his looks, his power, or even his mesmerizing eyes, which I thought maybe, just maybe, held a hint of male interest. It was the question he asked me: one that has enough impact to punch me in the chest and darn near level to me. It was such a simple question, from a man who was so not simple at all. Did you come to apply for the internship?

I could barely process what he'd just said. I had to repeat the question several times, and force calm thinking. And truthfully, I could have been insulted that he assumed my youth or something else about me meant I wasn't there to buy art. Instead, the elation of him considering me a prospect for a job at the gallery overrode any other reaction.

The reality knocked out the ray of hope for my career. I know how an "Internship" translates into dollars, because I'd done the math last year when my mother's funeral expenses had been a small fortune. Did I want to compete with a long lost of people who would beg to work for pennies? Was I willing to work two jobs to survive? And really, how long could I do that? How long would I last? What was the real chance of making a full-time living at an art gallery?

So what did I do? I laughed this silly, nervous laugh, and told him that working there was a dream I couldn't afford. Then, before I did something sillier, like change my mind, I stepped around him and left.

And now I eat my chocolate, sick to my stomach that I didn't find a reason to change my mind. Maybe if I eat the whole thing, I'll be too nauseated from sugar to feel sick about my decision. I can only hope.

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><p><em>Sunday, December 5, 2010<em>

I went to bed thinking about the man from the gallery, and the way his silvery light blue eyes had captured mine, about how I'd felt he would affect my life in some profound way when I'd met him. How would he do this if I never see him again? That was the last thing I remember thinking before I slipped into a dream.

No. A nightmare. In it, I'd been riding one of the trolleys, a cold San Francisco breeze whisking my long hair off my shoulders. Everything was vivid. The red car. The cold pole beneath my fingers. The shade of my dark black hair. The blue sky. The scent of the nearby ocean. Then suddenly my mother was there, riding with me, and she was smiling and happy in a way I haven't been since she died. I don't remember feeling happy in the dream, either. I remember feeling scared. And with good reason. A moment later, the trolley started to roll down a hill and it wouldn't stop. It was flying downward, faster and faster, and I was screaming, my heart in my throat. The trolley jumped the tracks and I clung to the pole, watching the water get closer and closer. Frantically, I searched for my mother, but she was just... gone. She was gone. I was alone as the trolley slammed into the water.

The next thing I knew I was sitting up in bed, screaming bloody murder, my hand clutching my neck. I'm not sure how long it took me to calm down, but when I finally realized I was in my bed, in my apartment, I could smell my mother's vanilla and honey perfume, suffocating me, filling my nostrils and the entire bedroom. I swear, I felt my mother in my room.

She made me have that hellish nightmare. I'm aware that that sounds crazy and I'm not one who believes in ghost stories, but I know she did this. I just don't understand what it means. I thought she loved me-but then, I learned so much about her in her final days; things I sometimes wish I didn't know, but others I'm glad I do. It is only because of what I know now what I am willing to see what this nightmare might be telling me. Maybe I was always alone. Maybe that's why my mind placed my mother in my dream state and ripped her away.

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><p><em>Wednesday, December 8, 2010<em>

Toneri, the good-looking banker I went out with a couple times last month, came into the bar tonight asking why I hadn't returned his calls. How do you tell a guy you dated him and had sex with him because you were lonely, and the net effect was still lonely? It wasn't that the sex was bad; it wasn't. I enjoyed it. I had an orgasm. I mean, that should account for something, because face it, how many first-time sexual encounters equal orgasm? Well, maybe they do for some people, but not me. I tend to think too much the first time with a man. Not that I've had a lot of men in my bed. In fact, Toneri is only my first. But I can just give myself an orgasm and it's much less complicated.

He's really a perfect guy-or he would be in my mother's book. Good-looking, self-made, loves his parents, and all that good stuff. He has money and appreciates everything he has, because he has earned it himself. I just don't have it in me to play the relationship game right now. And maybe I can't appreciate or deserve someone like him until I know who I am.

I ended up telling him I was working crazy hours and I'd call him next week. I shouldn't have told him that. Why did I give him hope? I know how much hope can hurt. Maybe I did it because I don't want to be lonely all the time.

I'm not like this. I'm not the shy, innocent girl I was a year ago. My mother's death has really affected me and I don't know who I am anymore. I'm lost. I'm lonely. I'm a broken girl.

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><p><em>Friday, December 10, 2010<em>

I can't get the man from the gallery out of my mind, but I thought at least the nightmares ended. Then I had the same hellish one last night, on the same trolley with my mother. I spent the morning and afternoon haunted by it, and for once I was thankful that Friday nights are so chaotic. That meant I'd be too busy to think about it or him.

But it's nearly ten o'clock, and I've barely had a break. I've been slammed with customers, yet that sick, horrible feeling when I'm plunging toward the water still suffocates me. It's frustrating and upsetting that I cannot get this nightmare out of my mind. It's affecting my job, and the tips I make to pay the bills.

I can't get rid of this sense that something is wrong, something bad is going to happen. I haven't felt like this since the week before my mother died. It's driving me crazy, and all I want to do it make this feeling go away. But I can't.

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><p><em>Monday, December 13, 2010<em>

I dreamed of the man from the gallery, but remarkably I can't remember the details. I know it was dark and delicious, the way a man that is meant to be dreamed about. Why can I remember the nightmare of being plunged into the bay by way of trolley car and my dead mother, yet the dream about a sexy, powerful man just plain escaped me? Truly, I don't know what is going on inside me right now, but I feel as if I am spinning out of control. It was enough to push me over the edge today, and I did what I said I wouldn't do: I found the man I had the encounter with at the gallery. I mean, what's the point in thinking that he's potentially life-changing if I avoid him?

His name is Naruto Uzumaki and he's the owner and manager of the gallery, and part of the family that owns Riptide, a famous auction house. That's who asked me if I was applying for a job. The owner. This feels like a sign, the reason he felt so important when I met him. Because he can hire me for the gallery and my dream job. And as crazy as for me to even think, let alone write down, I think he wanted me to apply for the internship. I think he wanted to hire me.

With this single crazy thought it makes me want to so badly go and apply now, even though it's probably too late. These jobs go so quickly and the competition would be fierce. To apply for the job and not get it would be devastating, yet I went so far as to see if I could get my hours cut at the bar to accommodate a second job. After all my years there, the new boss's answer was "no." The job market is tight and there are plenty of people willing to do my job without special scheduling. So unless I can find a more flexible second job, I couldn't even take the internship anyway.

This is my insanity. I can't do it. I just can't. Damn Naruto Uzumaki for tempting me and making me think that maybe, just maybe I can chase this dream again.

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><p><strong>I'm still a little nervous about making a new story so please, please, please I beg of you to have some faith in me.<br>Please review, follow, favorite, I would really appreciate it :)**

If you still have not read If I Were You, please do so, you won't regret it!

Until next week! ;)


	2. Chapter 2

Hi guys! I know this story is not what a normal naruhina should be but please, support me. I'm just getting started here!  
>DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN NARUTO<br>Rated: M

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><p>Hinata's Lost Journals<p>

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><p><em>Wednesday, December 15, 2010<em>

This time the nightmare was worse. This time I hit the water, the icy cold ocean claiming me as I was submerged, struggling to stop the trolley from crushing me. The splintering pain of drawing water into my lungs and trying to get to the surface. Pushing to the top with all my might to find my mother there, shoving me back down. I am angry, more angry than I've been in a long time-and I've been plenty angry. Angry at her for leaving me. Angry at her for lying to me. Angry at her for shoving me back into the water, and... and what? What the hell does this nightmare mean? The feeling of dread, of death, just won't go away.

I have to go to work and perform a job I hate. Maybe I just won't go. But damn it, I have to. How else will I survive?

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><p><em>Friday, December 17, 2010<em>

I've tried not to think about this being my first Christmas alone. I've tried to block out the trees, songs, and holiday cheer I used to embrace. It hasn't worked. Next up, New Year's resolutions. I've never made resolutions. I mean-why? Who really keeps them?

But I am thinking about next year, and my life in general. If life is short, why live it waiting tables at a bar? It's all I can think of today. How did I become the one in my group of college friends who has done nothing with my life, when I was the only one who knew what I wanted to do with my life? Now all my friends have moved on to new things. Amy is married to a banker and barely has time for me. Darla's in New York working for a television station. Kazumi is in Seattle working for a PR firm. Okay, there is Kirk, who still works at the Burger Palace and has absolutely no motivation to do anything different. Like me.

How have I become this? How have I let my dreams slip away? I have to do something. I have to fix this. I have to fix me. Being inside that gallery made me the happiest I have been in too long to remember.

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><p>Christmas Eve Morning<p>

I'm working at the bar tonight, a glad volunteer. Just call me the Grinch, because I'd rather skip Christmas this year. I haven't had a nightmare again, though I still have the vague sense of foreboding I can't get rid of. After careful thought, I think the death that I sense and fear is the death of my art dreams. So I've been thinking...

What makes one person's dreams come true when another's don't? Determination. Action. Desire.

Those are the things I once embraced, and I chose to do that again when I woke up this morning. I walked to the gallery's neighborhood and went inside every fancy restaurant that pays big tips, and managed to score a job at a place right by the gallery. I then called the gallery and asked if the internship was still open, and it wasn't. It was a hard answer to hear, but I was told I could still put in an application for the future. I did and wistfully wished Naruto Uzumaki was there. My gut tells me that seeing him again is my ticket to getting a job.

Now that I've decided to do this, maybe I can take an unpaid internship in hopes of proving myself. I'll hang on to this new waitressing job and stop by the gallery once a week until I get a job there, paid or unpaid. I have to be brave enough to take risks. Besides, the new job pays better than my old one. This is a good move. I have to believe that.

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><p><em>Saturday, December 25, 2010<em>

Movies alone. A huge tub of popcorn. A box of chocolate. A large soda. Stomachache. A stupid movie choice that made me cry like a baby in the theater and wish I'd brought my make up to fix my face. Well, not that I wear much make up, just mascara but still I'm sure my face looks horrible. Calls with friends. I told them I was with a guy I met at a bar. Bedtime. New job starts tomorrow.

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><p><em>Monday, December 27, 2010<em>

I was breathless when Naruto sauntered into the restaurant, owning the place-tall, blond, and model-like in a custom-fitted gray suit-and turning heads, both male and female. Not many men make me breathless, but there aren't many men who can claim the very air that exists around them, as he does.

Kim, the sweet hostess from Tennessee who I'm fast becoming friends with, seated him in my section, and I was ridiculously nervous as I headed to his table to take his order. I didn't expect him to remember me. Okay, okay, maybe I did. Or at least I hoped he would. I wanted to be right about what had passed between us. I wanted him to have wanted me to apply for the internship. I wanted him to ask me about it again now, and spare me walking into the gallery later and asking myself-especially after waiting on his table.

So I approached him, and the minute I stepped to his table, he arched a brow at me and asked how I could afford to work at the restaurant but not for him. I was surprised myself by not missing a beat, but I've always been good under pressure with professors and even the artist whom I encountered through my studies, no matter how arrogant or sharp-witted. And Naruto is arrogant. Yes. It radiates off him, and somehow it's sexy on him when it would be pompous on someone else. So it went something like this.

"I, I know how little.. internships pay," I replied.

"How can you know how much my internship pays if you didn't apply?"

"I know the industry."

"How?"

"I went to school to be in it, which I'm sure you assumed or you wouldn't be asking me this."

His lips did this wonderful, amused kind of half smirk. His smirk is perfect.

"Why don't you apply and find out?"

"I already did, sir."

"Hmm.. Even though you can't afford the dream of working there?"

"I.. I had a moment of weakness, sir."

We stared at each other, and I got warm all over in a way I've never felt with a man. Not good with a potential boss, I know, but it happened. Slowly, his gaze lowered and he glanced at my name tag, his stare made my stomach flop. I have no idea what happened. I had to squeeze my thighs together.

He returned his gaze to mine and softly said my name. Just "Hinata," but it was all soft and rough at the same time, and I melted into a big puddle right there in front of him. The look on his face was pure satisfaction, as if he knew what he'd just done and reveled in it.

And so did I, because this is what a woman wants a man to be able to do to her. The feeling of him controlling my pleasure so easily was just mind blowing. I'd never experienced something so intense before, let alone in a public place.

The erotic, exquisite moment ended abruptly when a gorgeous brunette in a pencil skirt and low-cut red silk blouse walked up to the table and gave me a look that could have singed me. I was suddenly very aware of my hair pulled into a bun, and a simple light blue skirt and a white blouse provided by the restaurant.

How had I thought for one moment this man, wanted me, when he has a woman like this? But you know, after my initial embarrassment, it was almost a relief to know that his interest in me was business. I could take a job with Naruto if it came about, and not worry about a conflict of interest between my hormones and my job performance.

And not an hour after Naruto left the restaurant, I got a call for a job interview at the gallery. Not with Naruto, but with someone by the name of Lee, but who cares? It's tomorrow and I got the impression it was almost a technicality. I assume that means they checked my references and I made an impression on Naruto.

That probably means I'm working for pennies, but I've decided to go for it. I have a good feeling about this. This is the first time in weeks I don't have that feeling of foreboding. So I must have been mourning the career I thought I'd never have.

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><p><em>Tuesday, December 28, 2010<em>

Hired! I can't believe it!  
>I got the job at the gallery, and the pay is better than I expected. Just a little, but every bit counts. There was a lot that was unexpected about this day, like how the interview played out. Lee turned out to be this funny and charming Asian man.<br>He took me to the break room and we sat and had coffee, which he seems to live on. The man is hyper chit-chatter who loaded me up on staff gossip. Of course, he warned me that Naruto-Mr. Uzumaki to the staff-was tough nails, but fair.

He made me laugh and put me at ease and was encouraging in every way. We were laughing, and I had let my guard down, when Naruto walked into the room. I swear it was like the room's temperature rose ten degrees. Okay, I rose ten degrees, but looking at Lee, I'm pretty sure he did, too. I'm pretty sure he's gay (not many straight men wear pink bow ties, and it suited Lee nicely), so we are of like mind where Naruto is concerned. Naruto is the definition of the word MAN.

As Naruto filled his coffee cup, Lee and I just sat there and soaked in the raw sexual power he oozed. After he was done, Naruto leaned on the counter and fixed me with one of those intense gray stares I don't know if I'll ever get used to. Then he asked who my favorite artists are. I told him my favorite was always the one I have yet to discover. He just stared at me, and I have no idea if he liked the answer or not. But he clearly wasn't satisfied that I knew my art, because the drilling began. He asked who was my favorite artists I'd already discovered in a number of genres, and then argues with me about why one of my choices wasn't a good one. My nerves slid away. Art has a way of making the world slip away from me.

"That's a rather shortsighted opinion." He said dryly, "when there are artists in the genre who have achieved so much more."

"That's where I'd say you're being shortsighted," I replied. Lee choked on his coffee; I'm guessing not too many people argue with Naruto. I went on to explain how the artist I'd named had yet to show the world all he had to offer, while the more well-known one's he'd named had already reached their peaks.

Naruto looked amused at that answer and maybe a little surprised. I'm not sure. Reading that man is pretty impossible. We went on to debate several artists he named and just like that, he pushed off the counter and said, "You start tomorrow, Ms. Hyuga." and then just left.

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><p>So I decided I might update twice a week, maybe. This is my only escape from my finals lol. sometimes school is just a big drag. anyway, for those who haven't read If I Were You, I highly recommend you do. :)<p>

please review, favorite and follow! you won't regret it! until next week! ;)


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you guys for taking your time for reading this!  
>Thank you for reviewing! Thank you for adding this story as your favorite and thank you for following :D<p>

DISCLAIMER: I do not own NARUTO!

Rated: M

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><p>Hinata's Lost Journals<p>

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><p><em>Wednesday, December 29, 2010<em>

I worked both jobs today and I don't know how I have the energy to write this, but my head is spinning and I can't possibly sleep. I like the restaurant so much more than the bar, and I made double the tips that I'm used to in one night. That's wonderful and all, but it's the gallery I'm in love with, the place I yearn to make my life.

Today was sensory overload, with the art I adore and my, dare I say, man-candy boss. He's arrogant and demanding, and he intimidates everyone but me. I can't explain it, but I feel challenged and excited around him, not like a wilting little flower. But then, I've never been a wilting flower. I guess being raised by a single mother who was tough as nails helped, even if she was as bitter as lemons at times about the father who deserted us. Of course, that was a lie, but I'm not ruining today by going down that path.

Back to Naruto... Mr. Uzumaki, that is. I think it's kind of sexy, the way he calls me Ms. Hyuga, though I wonder why he calls the front desk intern, Hanabi, by her first name. How many times did he say Ms. Hyuga todays and send a shiver straight down my spine?

"Good morning, Ms. Hyuga."

"This is your office, Ms. Hyuga."

"Ms. Hyuga, you have homework and there will be testing. You must be cultured and able to talk about anything and everything your customer base might find of interest."

And to that one I had thought, Oh, please, please please Naruto, test me. Hey, a girl can fantasize. It's almost safer when you know the man has some ridiculously gorgeous woman in his life, so it's just innocent dreaming.

And finally, the point I'm getting to, the big-one whopper he threw me that sent my pulse into overdrive. "Ms. Hyuga, I expect you to attend a party at Kiba Inuzuka's house with me tomorrow night."

Kiba Inuzuka, as in the fabulous, talented, and famous artist. I can't believe I'm not only going to his party, but I'm going with Naruto! It's business, I know, but the funny thing is that this sixth sense told me not to mention the party to the rest of the staff. Instead, I discreetly asked around and no one else is going to the party. Not even Temari, the sales rep I had the issue with the first night I visited the gallery. She and I are not off to a grand start as it is. Mentioning the party might have been the last straw for our working relationship.

So, hmmm... Why isn't Temari invited to the party? Maybe she's on her way out the door and that's why Naruto hired me? But why not tell me to keep the party hush-hush if he wants to replace her? Then again, I can't see Naruto caring if Temari feels nervous or upset over what he does. He seems to box business into business with nothing personal involved. I'm an investment to Naruto, I think. I can't explain why, but it's another gut feeling I have. Temari might have once been, too, but not now. He seems to almost ignore her. I feel sad for her. Though I want the job, there's no appeal in hurting someone else to get to the top. It kind of makes the idea of worrying about having nothing to wear to the party seem shallow, when her job could be on the line.

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><p><em>Saturday, January 1, 2011<em>

I don't even know where to begin this entry, and I only have an hour to get to work at the restaurant. I just know that I don't want to forget any details and I need to write them when I'm fresh. I'm certain I'll look back at this at some point and crave the feeling and memories as clearly as they were in my mind tonight.

To start, Naruto had me change clothes and then meet him at the gallery before the party. The entire staff knew I was attending with him and Temari was just plain mean. She popped into my office and said, "I guess it takes the right skirt to climb the ladder around here." I assume she was calling me a slut; her tone said she was. It wasn't easy to remind myself she was probably feeling threatened and bite my tongue, but I did.

Naruto and I rode to the party in his Jaguar. I don't even HAVE a car, so it was a luxurious ride for me, for sure. I swear to God, when I am with him, I feel him in every part of me. I think he feels it, too. Or maybe not. But even if there is an attraction between us, it can't work out. He's my boss and he has another woman.

Inuzuka's home is in a ritzy area of the city and it's elegant in every possible way. And Kiba himself is not only fabulously talented, he's striking in person. Not beautiful like Naruto, but there's something about the way his sharp features and deep-set eyes come together. Very arrogant and regal, almost hard. But I also sensed a softer part of him that I think is part of his creativity. I really bonded with Kiba and he stayed by my side most of the night; he even invited me to have coffee with him next week. I thought Naruto would be pleased, but for some reason he wasn't. He kept watching me with Kiba, and more than once, he appeared in the middle of our conversation and just listened. Maybe he was evaluating how I handle clients. I can't be sure.

Despite Naruto's irritation with me, when the night was over he offered to drive me home. He walked me to my door and I swear he wanted... something. Not a kiss. It's not that simple with Naruto. Maybe he wanted to fuck me, but I didn't let my mind go there. I just stood there, trying to figure out what it was he wanted. What was it that I wanted? The only word that comes to mind is "more" for me. For him, I had this uneasy moment of thinking "too much." Naruto would want too much, and somehow it would never be enough. I have no idea why I feel this, but I do. It's insanity for my mind to be in this place anyway. He's my boss. He might be able to separate whatever that "too much" is, but could I? Would I end up ruining my dream for mere hot sex, over and done with?

Yes. I'm beginning to think that is where this could go, and I won't let it. Or maybe I'm imagining to think that is where this could go, and I won't let it. Or maybe I am imagining the whole thing (which I'm one hundred percent sure I am) . Naruto still calls me Ms. Hyuga and I call him Mr. Uzumaki. He hasn't touched me. He hasn't made one remark that is even remotely sexual. I have no reason to believe we are headed toward naked and starving for each other, unless it's in my dreams. And that is one dream that I'm confident I could recall in vivid detail...

* * *

><p><em>Sunday, January 2, 2011<em>

Today I had coffee with Kiba at the coffee shop next door to the gallery. I was shocked when I arrived early to discover that the gorgeous brunette I'd seen with Naruto at the restaurant is Ava, the woman who owns this place. Not only that, she wasn't rude or snotty at all this time. She's probably closer to Naruto's age than mine, and carries herself almost regally, maybe too much so-like it's a way to hide what she doesn't want seen. She seemed to want to build a friendship, but I couldn't quite feel right about it with the conflicting impressions I've had of her.

She laughed and joked with me, and asked me how I was handling Naruto being so controlling. I wondered if she was trying to get me to say something she'd then to repeat to Naruto. That's so cynical of me, but it's what popped into my head and I never say anything I don't want repeated. She even whispered a warning about how temperamental Kiba can be. (But I'd heard the same from Lee and Hanabi.)

She did enough talking for both of us, and it turns out she's known Naruto and Kiba for years and they are all friends, though I'm not sure how this many gorgeous people are ever just friends. Some people would say that is small-minded of me, but it is what it is. I was surprised I liked Ava. I'm not sure what to make of her. I'm going to be cautious with her, that's for sure.

I didn't say much about Naruto or Kiba to her. I don't even share things with the people I know well. There were too many years of my mother working double shifts at the hotel she managed, warning me not to talk to strangers while she was gone. Not to tell people whom I knew things that hey could let slip to someone else, who would know I was alone. She was so crazily insistent that I learned to write stuff down. It's better that way, I've found. I'm the only one judging me or influencing my own thoughts. I think most people let others decide who and what they are too much.

As for Kiba, he was amazing to me, I saw nothing that screamed of his reputation for being temperamental. I warmed to him immediately, just as I had at his party. He's one of the few people I've ever felt this comfortable with this quickly. He has this protective vibe about him that I found surprisingly appealing.

Maybe it's because he's a good eight years older than me and almost brotherly, though he's far too sexy a man for me to ever think of that way, and I feel no deep, burning need for a brother figure. I don't need or want to be taken care of. He tugs on some deep part of me, though. Really, he and Naruto both do, but for different reasons. With Naruto I think it's all about raw power and just plain lust. With Kiba, maybe there's friendship? I just don't know.

We were about to leave when I saw Ava talking to a man at the counter dressed in Harley boots, jeans, and a leather jacket. The look on her face said she was in lust. I sure hope I'm not that obvious when I look at Naruto. Then the man turned around and I took in the sweeping whole picture he made, including the spiked-messed-up raven hair that screamed "wild and wicked rock star delicious," and I could see why she was looking at him that way. He's beautiful. He is the definition of perfect. He looks flawless. I even had to blink twice. This incredibly handsome human being looks fake, almost as if he was photoshopped by the Gods. Kiba followed my attention, and the two men waved at each other.

The next thing I knew, I was meeting the "rock star," who was the incredibly famous Sasuke Uchiha. The man's art sells for scary, wonderfully big price tags. As for the wild part I'd assumed, he didn't come off that way. He was all business, about to head to a meeting with Naruto, and Sasuke wanted to confirm that Kiba was still donating a painting to the next Riptide auction for a children's cancer charity he supports. Despite the two being cordial, I didn't get the impression Sasuke and Kiba were all that fond of each other. I think Kiba has a problem connecting with most people, but I think he's just artistic and misunderstood. I'm going to his private studio this weekend to preview the work he's willing to let me show to special customers, and I'm beyond thrilled.

I returned to the gallery and was called into Naruto's office. The power that man oozes from behind his desk is enough to make me forget every other man and my name.

He then proceeded to drill me about Kiba and to warn me that artists could use my eagerness for success to manipulate me. He said it was his responsibility to protect me. I told him I didn't need protection. His reply: My gallery. My employee. My protection. Those words were laced with possessiveness, and the way he'd looked at me... I felt more naked than I have felt with my legs spread wide for any other man. The air thickened, with awareness between us. And then, in a snap, it was gone as if it had never happened, and maybe it didn't. Maybe it was my crazy imagination.

Naruto proceeded to test me on the material he'd given me to study. I'm pleased that I passed with flying colors despite my crazy work schedule. I'm not as pleased about being tested every afternoon in his office, but that's his plan. Until I convince him I'm ready, Naruto won't put me on the showroom floor. He was quick to tell me that he plans to push me to my limits.

I left the meeting with the same feeling I'd had the night I'd visited the gallery the first time. This man is going to have a profound impact on my life. I just know it.

* * *

><p><em>Friday, January 7, 2011<em>

The handsome guy Toneri showed up at my door right after I got home tonight. This is what happens when you are a chicken and don't return phone calls. He had a bottle of wine and roses for me. I tried to be strong. I told him I wasn't in a place to date. He said okay, let's just share the wine.

I should have said no again. But he just looked so scrumptious and smelled so good, and I felt bad about not calling him back. The next thing I knew, I was naked and he was licking me all over and I was panting like a wanton wench who didn't have any sense in her head. I blame Naruto for turning me wet and wanting every time he walks into the room. And I already knew Toneri was gifted with his tongue, and boy was he. I was quivering with release in no time.

I tried to repay the orgasm by giving him a blow job, but he didn't let me. He decided to lick me all over again and gave me yet another orgasm. The man was determined to win me over. So why was it still not enough? I know he thought it would be; we'd be fuck buddies. If he meant it, I might think it wasn't such a bad idea. A no-commitment kind of thing. I don't have time for more than a wham-bam-hit-me-with-an-orgasm-or-two kind of relationship.

Only, he didn't mean it. This handsome man with bedroom skills, who is sweet and sexy, and successful, must have a long list of woman chasing him, but he wants me. I told him I didn't think the fuck buddy thing would work out. He told me he'd show up with another bottle of wine and convince me otherwise.

Oh, yes. I made a mistake by having sex with him last night. I've opened up a big can of trouble.

This isn't like me.. Where did the sweet Hinata go?

* * *

><p><em>Saturday, January 8, 2011<em>

I visited Kiba's home today and took a tour of his private gallery. It was spectacular and he has a Mexican chef prepare an authentic Mexican meal for us that was amazing. I asked him millions of questions about his art and his creative process and he answered them all. And when he asked me about my life, I shocked myself by almost crying when I told him about my mother dying of lung cancer. I don't know why I told him, and I absolutely don't know why I almost cried. And now, why can't I stop thinking about the nightmare I haven't had in weeks, where my mother pushed me back under the water of the bay?

* * *

><p><em>Monday, January 10, 2011<em>

Naruto informed me that my first time working with actual customers would be at a gallery event Wednesday afternoon that will carry into early evening. I'm thrilled, but I have to work at the restaurant that night and I can't get the time off. I tried. So it's going to be this nightmare of a challenge to do well at the gallery and then rush to the restaurant.

* * *

><p><em>Monday, January 17, 2011<em>

Tonight there was a wine tasting at the gallery and I had to work at the restaurant right after the event, just like last week. I made it to work last week, so I was sure I could do so again this week. Working two jobs has been killing me, but ever since Naruto let me loose on the sales floor I've done well.

The event this evening seems to be going well, too. I made an expensive sale and landed a number of contacts I know will equal more sales. I was feeling good until the event ran late, and Temari had some crisis to deal with, and Naruto asked me to stay. But I couldn't, without losing my job at the restaurant. The instant I told him this, Naruto called me into his office. He shut the door and I leaned against it. He was close, his blue eyes glinting with irritation.

"You work for me or you work for them. Choose now, Ms. Hyuga."

"It's not about choice, Mr. Uzumaki... It's about the necessity of paying my bills."

"You'll never turn this job into larger income if you can't complete duties."

Since when was this an option? I rebutted, "I haven't been told I have a chance to make more money."

"You just started."

"My-my bills didn't."

That glint in his eyes had turned sharper and I was sure he was going to fire me. Instead, he said, "Ten percent on tonight's sale to get you by. If you continue to do well, there will be more. But that's on the condition that you quit the restaurant. It's beneath you, Hinata-chan, and I don't share unless it's on my terms. This isn't."

I had barely been able to breath. I'm still trying to process what's going on. He'd just offered me a huge bonus and given me the chance to make this job my career and actually get paid for it? I'm not going to get my hopes up. Not yet.

* * *

><p><em>Thursday, February 3, 2011<em>

So much has changed in the past two weeks. To Naruto's displeasure, I gave a short notice at the restaurant. It was so crazy busy, juggling both jobs, that I didn't have time to write in my journals. I still haven't, despite leaving the restaurant fully a week ago. There have been events at the gallery, and... there has been another big change. Him.

He's become a huge part of my life. He, who wants to be known simply as "Master," has swept into my world and torn away walls I never knew existed, and that I'm not sure I want torn down. But he wants to tear them down. He says he will control me, command my body, and show me pleasure like I've never known. He will show me trust that is the greatest bond two people can share. He will fuck me senseless, and then do it again and again until I know nothing but him.

Why does this appeal to me? Why am I considering this? If I know nothing but him, where will I be? How will I exist? He hasn't touched me yet, but I feel as if he has. Toneri showed up with wine, and nothing he could do could entice me this time. There is only him, my would-be "Master." And that is what he wants. I share my joys and fears and pain with him. He will show me rewards and escapes.

When he first told me I was a natural submissive, I didn't believe him. I lean on no one. But he says that makes me need the outlet he can offer: the place where I can safely hand over all that I am, and just feel. It frightens me to realize how much this idea seeps into me and flows so easily. Handing over to this man terrifies me... but it also arouses me like nothing in this lifetime ever has, besides art.

He wants to meet tomorrow night, to give me a small taste of what he is offering me. He promises to start slow and give me the chance to test the waters before we go very far, and before we sign an agreement as a true Master and Submissive.

An agreement that says he owns my body.

* * *

><p><em>Friday, February 4, 2011<em>

My first submissive experience is tonight. I still can't believe I'm doing this. I still can't believe I want this. How has two weeks changed so much about what I know of myself? The woman who wants this isn't me, and yet she is. Or maybe it's because of who he is? Had any other man presented this to me, I would have laughed. He's sunk deep into my body and soul and stirred something molten and thick with possibilities outside my realm of full understanding.

He's invited me to his home and will send a car to pick me up, because he said as "his" (like he owns me), I wouldn't be taking trolleys to the places I needed to go. My objection was waved away and he made himself clear: When I am his, I will be taken care of. There was no "if" to his statement. His desire to won me scares me more than the unknown of a BDSM relationship. I've only depended on one person in my life, my mother, who not only died, but betrayed me in ways that still cut deep.

The choice to get into the car and come to him was mine, he'd said. I had to make the decision, knowing what waited for me. Knowing the instant I crossed the entryway, I was under his control.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I promise I will be making each chapter longer!  
>You guys will be getting Naruto's point of view later on in the story!<br>Have you guys watched Naruto the last? Do you guys know where I could pay to watch the entire film? :(

So, this isn't important as this story but I passed my finals! :D  
>and my sweet loving man gave me an amazing early Christmas present, he brought us two tickets for Paris :D<br>I love it here!

Thank you so much for reading!  
>review, favorite and follow, you guys will make a happy Taylin!<br>until next week! ;)


	4. Chapter 4

_Sunday, February 6, 2011_

Last night was amazing. When the car came, I was taken to a spa instead of his house. I had my hair and makeup done, plus a full wax. He even had a dress there waiting for me. Purple, short, not too clingy, it gave me the perfect look. No panties or bra allowed underneath, per his note in the box. Also per the note, the driver would give me the choice when I returned to the car to either go home to my apartment or go to him. There was no question in my mind: I was going to him.

I remember settling into the comfort of the soft leather seat and how shockingly aroused I was, just imagining what my submissive experience might be like. My thighs had been slick, my nipples tight and tingly. It really was an insane reaction when I hadn't even made it to his home yet.

Once I was there, my adventure truly began. He opened the door and his presence slid over me, hot and powerful, washing away the coldness of the night. He wore soft faded jeans and an orange T-shirt. His feet were bare, as if he was ready to be naked in flash. I wanted him to be naked in that moment. I think I always want him to be naked.

He motioned me inside and I stepped over the entryway. He shut the door behind me, but didn't touch me. Instead he stepped in front of me again, and his gaze swept my scantily clad body, lingering on my tightly puckered nipples, male appreciation glowing from the depths of his gaze.

When his eyes lifted to mine again, he said, "This is the last time to back out, Hinata."

I lifted my chin and met his stare. "I-I don't want to b-back out."

Satisfaction slid over his face. "Then there are rules."

"R-rules?" My knees were liquid, my body one big, eager nerve ending. I was nervous, but I wanted his rules. I can't explain why. I don't understand why.

"Rules," he confirmed. "To start, you wont speak unless I ask a question. You don't do anything I don't tell you to do. You do exactly what I say you do. Normally, I would say I'll also do anything I wish to you, but until we have an agreement with your limits, I'll refrain from going to places I might otherwise go."

Some part of me rebelled. This isn't me. This is not me. I don't get commanded by anyone but myself. But it was me.

"Understand?" he asked.

"Y-yes." I couldn't keep the tremble from my voice.

"If at any point you want to stop, say 'Stop', but mean it if you say it. If you tell me to stop, I will. 'Stop' tells me you are at your limit. Or you can choose another word."

I nodded. I did want another word. "I think... I might say stop by accident."

"Then choose a word."

I hadn't had a clue what to choose, and he seemed to sense that because he said, "Red. That's your safe word until you choose another. Say it and I stop."

"Yes."

He'd studied me for a long time and so intently that it was all I could do not to scream at him to speak. And finally he did. "Get on your knees."

I blinked at him, a bit taken aback, but I did as he ordered.

"Unzip my pants and suck me."

Looking back now, this command should have bothered me. Shouldn't it have? Being ordered to my knees to serve him? But it didn't. In fact, it was enticing. It made me feel in control. I'd take his pleasure. I'd own him while he was trying to own me.

I stroked the thick ridge of his erection, and tugged down his zipper before finding his hard, hot flesh with my palm and freeing his cock. I stroked him slowly and liquid formed on the top of his erection.

"Lick it off," he ordered.

I looked up at him, watching him as my tongue snaked out and lapped at the pre-cum, shocked when he'd showed no reaction at all, since I'd been determined to get one. I wrapped my hand around the width of him and began to lick and suck. I expected his hand to go to my head, but it didn't. This drove me nuts.

"Harder," he ordered. "Faster."

I complied, more determined than ever to get the reaction from him I wanted. And finally his hand was in my hair, his hips pumping against me, his cock sliding up and down my throat.

But I had been the one out of control, not him. I had nearly orgasmed from doing that to him; I'd been so darn aroused by the idea of making him release. And when he finally did, oh, man, he growled in this gravelly sexy way, deep in his throat, and I don't know how I didn't come as well.

The next thing I knew, he pulled me to my feet and pushed me against the door, facing it, so my hands were on the hard surface. Then he yanked my dress over my head, exposing me to his view, his touch. I stood therein my high heels and nothing else, and he leaned into me, touching me from calf to back, and it was a blessed relief to feel him close. His hands were all over me, stroking my breast, pinching my nipples, roaming over my backside. His fingers pressed into the swollen sweetness between my thighs and that was all it took. I orgasmed.

He turned to me to face him again. "Follow me," he ordered. He turned and started walking. I followed him like his slave, and I know that is what he intended. Master. Slave. He owned me then, but will he in the future?

We ended up in a large bedroom with a massive bed in the center and cabinets on the walls that I guessed held erotic toys that would terrify and thrill me. I was right. He ordered me to stand by the bed, and then opened a drawer and pulled out some sort of band with two arm cuff on either end.

Adrenaline poured through me at the idea of being tied up, but I didn't feel scared. I felt like I was on fire, burning alive with the need to have this man inside me. When he ordered me to raise my hands I did. Before I knew it, I was in the center of the bed, my hands attached to the headboard above me, and he was naked straddling me with some sort of crop in his hand. A momentary fear overcame me until he promised me he was only going to let me get a feel for what the leather felt like this time. No pain. Only pleasure.

And it was pleasure. The snap and pressure against my nipples, my clit, even my legs and arms, was shockingly exquisite. The things he did to me... I can't even write some of them down. I was bothered, though, by how he hadn't kissed me, uncertain what that meant. What this relationship really was. How it seemed to demand so much in some ways and offer so little in others.

But it's the things that happened this morning that affected me more than last night. I don't remember falling asleep. I just remember the nightmare and waking up. I'd been back on the trolley, the air a cold arctic blast around me. So very cold that my lips were purple and my teeth chattered. My mother wasn't there. No one was there. The car began to go faster and faster into this eternal black hole, and I could see nothing but darkness. The splash of icy water came in a blast and pain splintered through me. I pushed away from the steel machine that threatened to take me under and my mother was in the water above me, but she wasn't alone. There was someone else there. Someone she was fighting with. They blocked my way to the surface and I tried to swim around them but something grabbed my legs and sucked me deeper.

I sat up in the bed screaming bloody murder and he was there, holding me, telling me I was safe, that he was there for me. The hard man who'd ordered me to suck him and fuck him was now gentle and caring, a total contrast to the night before. I've never in my life felt safe because of anyone except my mother, but I felt safe in his arms. I felt right there. And it terrified me almost as much as the nightmare.

I can't be with him. I can't need someone else as much as I think I will come to need him. I just... can't. I haven't told him. He didn't ask. I'm not sure why. Because he changed his mind? Because he didn't like what he thought my answer would be? And if I don't want to enter into this agreement with him, why do I care?

* * *

><p><em>Monday, February 7, 2011<em>

The day that started out with me fretting over my would-be "Master" was made better when I got a call from a local retiree I'd been trying to buy a painting from. He was willing to sell. Naruto was beyond impressed when I told him I had landed a Georgia O'Nay for the Riptide auction. We drove out together to pick it up, and my day ended with a promotion, thanks to the small fortune Riptide will make when the painting sells.

I am now in charge of all the Riptide auctions for the gallery, and Temari will now go through me for approval. I will get 10 percent of every sale I organize. She wasn't happy. I'm ecstatic. My life is changing. I don't need someone's protection. I don't need someone to control me. So why does the absence of any attempt at an agreement send me to bed tonight feeling so very alone?

* * *

><p><em>Monday, February 14, 2011<em>

Once again it's Valentine's Day.

Toneri and Kiba both sent me roses. Kiba attached a nice note about celebrating my new career. Toneri signed his "your friendly fuck buddy." I cringed. Naruto didn't give me anything. He was just Naruto, forever handsome and enthralling, and judgmental and too many other things to list. Temari gave me the cold shoulder. Lee stole two roses from me for his desk. I worked late and locked up the gallery. When I exited, a car was waiting for me. To my surprise when I got inside, he was there. He fucked me right there (fucked not made love to), in front of the gallery, with the driver inside. I let the man in the front seat watch. I let him hear me moan. I just... did. I don't even talk about my sex life, but I let a stranger watch me fuck another man.

And when it was over and I was delivered to my door, my "Master" handed me a package that is now sitting in front of me on my bed. Inside, I found a contract. I'd be submissive to my "Master." He'd control me. There is a long list of things he'd expect of me. The note inside promised that we'd negotiate details, but it also said that I have to instigate the next meeting, so that he knows I really want this. And when I do, I should wear the gift included in my package. It's a gorgeous rose-shaped gold ring I found nestled in a velvet box. The note attached to it read, "Wearing it means you belong to me."

I don't know what to do. I don't know how I feel, and I have no one to talk to. Even if I did, how do I talk to someone about this? I've sat here doing internet searches on BDSM relationships, but I've done this many times before.

Now, I'm sitting here listening to the Dr. Kat Sex Talk show as callers ask her questions about sex and relationships, and I am actually tempted to call But I can't. I don't talk to people about my private life. And I sure don't talk on private radio. I don't know what's wrong with me... this isn't me.

* * *

><p><em>Wednesday, February 16, 2011<em>

Silence. The ball is in my court. He really does seem to expect me to go to him now and pursue the contract. I am still confused and uncertain about what I want. I'm still sitting on my bed, listening to Dr. Kat again, and I like her. She is fun and honest, and makes sense when she responds to people. I am almost desperate enough to dial the number provided, and use an alias, though I expect the callers are lined up in advance. But maybe I'll try...

Yes. I think I'll try.

''Welcome to the Dr. Kat show. What's your question?"

"A man has asked me to enter into a BDSM relationship with him and this is new to me," I told her. "I'm not sure how to be certain that it's right for me."

"Is this your first BDSM experience?"

"Y-yes. Yes it is."

"Well then, it's normal to feel uncertain. Will you be bottom or top?"

"Bottom or top?"

"Are you the submissive?"

"Um, y-yes."

"And how do you feel about that?"

My reply was speedy. "I've never thought of myself as submissive, but he says I need an outlet where I don't have to be in control."

"Do you?"

"I didn't, but now... maybe."

"What's your hesitation? Is he pressuring you to do things you aren't comfortable with?"

"No-no. He's given me space and time to make this decision."

"That's good," Dr. Kat said with approval. "That's how it should be, but you're still hesitating. Why?"

"I-I, I guess I'm afraid of losing who I am, and being only what he lets me be.  
>"It sounds like you're afraid of losing control. For many people, giving away control in a safe BDSM environment can actually help get over this fear. It sounds like you're drawn to the idea."<p>

"Yes... yes, I think I am, but I'm nervous."

"The important thing is to set limits, then you need to consider if this is right for you. He only has control because you give it to him. Don't ever forget that."

I hung up from my call with Dr. Kat and sat there thinking about limits and control. I never thought I'd see the day I would give a man any control over me at all. Now, my biggest fear is giving one too much.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry about the late update guys, I had a car accident and have a broken arm LOL ):<strong>

**I'll be updating asap**

**bear with me please, this is a naruhina fic ;)  
><strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**I want to apologize for taking so long to update.**

Keep in mind this story is part of my other story, 'If I Were You' so you might want to read it to understand this a bit better. Some of you might not want to read it because it's a sasusaku fanfic but it's not all about Sasuke and Sakura, it does have some NaruHina in there too. ;)

Happy reading!

* * *

><p>The Contract<p>

Journal 5, entry 1

* * *

><p><em>Thursday, February 17, 2011<em>

Master. Submission. A contract that says he owns me for his personal pleasure. It's my decision whether to dare to tread that path or not. Sitting here on my bed in my fluffy pajamas with a glass of wine in hand, these things seem like they are meant for someone else's life, not mine.

Truly, I'm surprised that this decision wasn't the only thing on my mind at work today. I was certain that it, and the man involved, even the call to Dr. Kat, would consume me all day. But art is a gift to this world that I'm passionate about, and its allure enticed me away from my fretful worries about handing over control to a man I barely know but find impossible to resist. Being able to separate him from my art is actually quite comforting. I don't have to lose who I am to be part of who he is.

By midmorning I wasn't even thinking about the contract points I wanted to discuss with him, or of having been tied to his bed. Or all the wicked things he'd done to me while I was tied there, or even all the wicked things he might do to me in the future. A customer gave me a tip about a man in Seattle who had a rare masterpiece he was thinking of letting go for a steal. It took me hours to track him down, but I actually managed to get through to him. I talked him into meeting with Naruto about auctioning it off through Riptide. Naruto was in NYC at Riptide today, so I had to call him. I'm smiling just replaying the way the call went. I have to admit, I do enjoy verbally sparring with my new boss.

"Ms. Hyuga, this better be important."

I replied with a happy gloat. "If you call a chance to get an original 'Mercury' worth a cool million for only half of that important, then I guess it is."

He was silent for a moment and then said, "Are you certain?"

"I spoke with the owner myself. He's in Seattle and he's agreed to see you."

"Why would he let it go at this price?"

"He wanted 600k. I told him I could get him 500k within the week."

"You're very confident with my money."

"I'm very confident in how much money this can make us both. His business is in trouble and he needs the cash."

"He told you this?"

"People tell me things. I'm a much better listener than talker."

"Indeed," he surprised me by agreeing. "Email me the details."

"I already did M-Mr. Uzumaki."

He was silent for a moment. "I'll say good work if I get the painting for 500k."

"I'm looking forward to it, Mr. Uzumaki."

If that painting sells for a million, I'll make 10 percent! It's too good to be true. How can this be my life? Of course, the auction is six months from now so I won't get my hopes up, but it's truly amazing to have the potential to make this income.

But now, it's time to think about the contract in front of me. It's long. It's scary. It's... not me, so why am I reading it?

Dr. Kat said to talk through my limits, and the first four items on the contract all bother me, That doesn't seem like a good start.

* I accept that I shall be placed in and kept under strict discipline without time limit.

Without time limit is a No Go for me.

* I accept any form of punishment meted out to me while under discipline.

What is punishment? And why the heck would I say yes? Hmmm-the flogging had been rather erotic. Is that what is meant by punishment?

* I accept any form of restraint without time limit.

No time limit is a NO.

* I agree to obey my Master in all respects. Mind, body, heart, and time belong to him.

My time belongs to him? My mind? No.

* I will have the right to operate at work, in my daily routine, without this agreement interfering. I may dress, communicate, and function as the job dictates necessary.

Well, that helps a little, but not much.

* I accept the responsibility of using my safe word when necessary, and trust implicitly in my Master to respect the use of that safe word

This, I believe I can live with. So we have one thing I'm okay with. One. This isn't going so well.

* I will always speak of my Master in terms of love and respect. She will address him at all times as "Master."

This will take getting used to, but I'll figure it out. So I've found a second thing I can live with.

* I agree that my Master possesses the right to determine whether others can use my body and what use they may put it to.

_Share me?_ This bothers me more than anything. How can he care about me if he wants to share me? Who would he share me with? Am I kidding myself to think he would care about me? This is sex. Just sex. In so many ways, it's what I want. No ties. No emotions. No interference in my job and career goals. Yet he wants to own my mind, time, body, and heart. It's confusing.

What's even more confusing is that I'm not saying no to this. Why would I allow myself to be submissive, a slave to another person?

But I know the answer: because it's him. There's something about him. What, I don't know. It's almost as if I feel like he can complete me in some way, and I'm not even sure how that is. This terrifies me. I don't want another person to be what completes me. And sharing me... Do I want to be shared? It's hard to imagine being with more than one person. Would I do it to please him? Would it please me? I've never thought of such a thing. I don't think I can do this. No. I can't. I'm going to tell him no. This is NOT me.

* * *

><p><em>Friday, February 18, 2011<em>

I didn't deal with my submissive/Master scenario today. The timing just wasn't right. I had too much going on at the gallery, and Naruto was in Seattle to meet with my potential seller. I kept hoping to hear from him, but I didn't. I don't know what that means. I'm climbing the walls, wondering if he bought the painting for Riptide. Surely he knows what a big deal it is to me? But then, Naruto seems to enjoy making me squirm. I must have asked Hanabi a hundred times if he'd called in. I finally left him a message. He didn't call back. How am I ever going to sleep with two huge open issues?

* * *

><p><em>Saturday, February 19, 2011<em>

The minute I walked into the gallery today and found out from Hanabi that Naruto was in, I started for his office, only to be told that Kiba was with him. It just made me crazy to have to wait; I've been dying to know what happened in Seattle. Then I started to worry about what Naruto and Kiba might be talking about. Two hours passed and they still were in Naruto's office, which made no sense to me. They don't even seem to like each other all that much. I had no idea what they could have been talking about and still don't.

When they finally came out of the office I was with a customer, and Naruto and Kiba left together. Naruto didn't return by the time the gallery closed and I couldn't help myself. I called him. He didn't answer. He texted me instead with: _I sent him a contract. He'll want his attorney to review it. Expect this to take weeks._

Weeks! And a contract! I almost choked when I read that part of the message. Once again, a contract stands between me and the prize.

* * *

><p><em>Monday, February 21, 2011<em>

Sasuke came into the gallery to see Naruto today. The two of them seem to share a mutual respect, and maybe a friendship. It's hard to tell with two such controlling men. They are so alike and so different, those two. Naruto is hard on the surface, while Sasuke jokes with the entire staff and everyone seems to like him. But the share the same underlying strength and power. Each commands the room when he enters.

I want to be like them, to be that confident, that in control. So how could I be a submissive to a Master and ever be those things? And why am I still thinking about this, when I already decided I wasn't going to sign the contract?

* * *

><p><em>Tuesday, February 22, 2011<em>

Toneri showed up at the gallery today and Naruto didn't seem pleased. No. That's an understatement. He was pissed Toneri actually interrupted me while I was with a customer and wanted to talk. The customer wasn't pleased. Naruto ordered Temari to take over the client and directed me to his office. I can still see the gloating look on Temari's face that said she was thrilled to see me in hot water. And I was in hot water. The conversation with Naruto wasn't a good one.

"Your 'boy' needs to visit on breaks or lunch, not while I have a millionaire on the floor trying to buy art."

"I didn't invite him."

"Nor have you controlled him. Deal with him, Ms. Hyuga. That will be all. You can leave."

Talk about feeling smacked down. He dismissed me that fast. I stood there and weighed my options. The truth seemed my only defense, so I said, "I've tried and failed. I don't understand why, but he just won't go away."

He arched a blond brow at me. "Are you telling me he's stalking you?"

"No-no. I don't want to say that, but it is getting a little creepy."

"Do I need to handle this for you?"

"God, no. I'll handle it. I will."

"But you haven't."

"I was worried about hurting his feelings."

"So you haven't handled it at all."

"I told him I wasn't interested."

"Tell him so he knows you mean it."

His voice turned pure ice.

I didn't even know what to say to that. I simply assured him I'd handle it and started to leave.

"Ms. Hyuga." I paused at the door with dread in my stomach before turning back to him. "Kiba Inuzuka sent you flowers. He's stopped by several times. You might not see it Hinata, but the rest of us do. He's temperamental and goes off the deep end in a blink. I do not want this ability you have to draw unstable male attention to cost me an artist."

"The flowers were a welcome to the gallery gift," I said defensively, and I immediately thought of the long meeting he's had with Kiba. Had Kiba said something to him about me?

"No man sends roses on Valentine's Day as a welcome gift. You're smarter than that, Ms. Hyuga. Open your eyes."

I doubt Naruto would send a woman flowers for any reason, but I bit my tongue, knowing I might regret a rebuttal later. "I'll handle Toneri and Kiba." I turned to leave again and he let me.

The rest of the day, I just wanted to be out of the gallery for the first time since I started my job. When I got home, I stood in front of the mirror and stared at myself, taking in my dark hair and light gray eyes. Staring at my image, I thought of Naruto's comment and wondered if there was something about me that drew unstable men. Not that I think Kiba is unstable, as Naruto had implied, though clearly, Toneri is a little off his rocker. And I'm not used to all this male attention. Woman like Ava get male attention. She's gorgeous and I'm... average. The girl next door who wishes she was the beauty queen.

And here I am, sitting at my kitchen table in my oh-so-glamorous cotton PJs and eating cereal. With the contract next to me. The one thing I keep thinking is that when I was with my would-be "Master," I felt beautiful. I felt safe. I felt like I was his world. I had an escape from things like today's stresses.

The escape had to be (is?) the allure of the relationship. I've considered the punishment clause and it doesn't bother me all that much now because I do feel safe with him. Maybe that's naïve, but it's how I feel. But the sharing thing-that still bothers me. What if it was with another woman? How inferior would I feel? How incapable of pleasing him?

I just need to tell him this won't work. I don't know why I haven't already. He won't come to me, he's said when he'd given me the contract. I have to go to him, he'd said. I have to make the willing choice to pursue him as my Master.

* * *

><p><em>Wednesday, February 23, 2011<em>

_Morning..._

I dreamed of him... He'd tied me to his bed again, only this time I was facedown, unable to see him. I wanted to see him but I didn't feel a fear of the unknown. He wasn't touching me, but as crazy as it sounds, I could feel him. There was something about him in that dream that just reached inside me and slid straight to my soul. I had no idea what he was going to do to me. I was certain though, that he knew best. He'd make whatever we did, whatever he did to me, pleasurable. He'd know what I needed.

I know it wasn't real, but it seemed like it was, and I've never felt that with anyone else except my mother. It's odd to compare my mother and a Master tying me to a bed, I know, but I have nothing else to compare it to. There is no one who has ever been close enough to me to gain my trust but these two people.

In the dream, and it was a dream, not a nightmare, I waited with breathless anticipation for what he would do to me. He spread me wide, his fingers sliding intimately between my thighs, stroking me, teasing me. I cannot believe how vividly I can remember the feel of him touching me. He'd been gentle in a way I didn't expect, taking me to the edge of orgasm and then abruptly withdrawing.

He'd returned to snap a crop against the mattress, making me jump. He'd warned me he wasn't going to be as gentle with me from that point forward. He'd told me it was time to leave it behind, to experience more. I'm surprised to remember how much that warning pleased me. And even more surprised at how I'd welcomed the snap of the crop on my backside, and reveled in how it became harder with each touch. I'd been shaking and panting with the sting of the leather, but I'd been aroused. And when finally (and yet too soon) it has been over, he'd kissed me from top to bottom, licking every spot he's used the crop on. He'd been gentle again and he'd ended up between my legs, pressing my backside in the air and lapping at me until I came. And then he'd been inside me, filling me, stretching me, and it had been glorious until the dream had shifted and faded.

Suddenly I was inside my recurring nightmare of my mother, but I can't remember what happened. I just know there had been icy water, and I'd sat up in my bed gasping for air. Then the smell of my mother's perfume had permeated my nostrils. And the sense of doom I keep trying to escape returned, and now it won't go away.

To have the dream become this nightmare is unsettling. What does it mean? Is my mind warning me that my mother betrayed me, and he will, too?

_Evening..._

I'm siting at my kitchen table with the contract by my side and yet another box of cereal in front of me. I've just hung up from a disastrous call with Toneri and I feel sick to my stomach. Since nothing else has worked, I told him I was seeing someone new and I couldn't see him anymore. He'd asked who it was and then got pretty ugly with me when I wouldn't say. I'm shocked at how he talked to me; the things he said were just unbelievable. He was nothing like the sweet guy I feared I was going to crush. His anger was downright vile. It scared me, and I don't scare easily. Really, it's been a bad day overall. I'm ready for it to be over.

* * *

><p><em>Thursday, February 24, 2011<em>

Before going to work I stopped at the coffee shop, and Sasuke was there, sitting at a table sketching. I see him there several times a week, but I still get an adrenaline rush every time I do. He's just so talented and cool.

I stood in line, my eyes drawn to Sasuke, watching him work. It's a gift to see an artist involved in his craft. His head was down, his longish raven hair was touching his collar, his expression one of deep concentration. I could have stared at him forever, watching the creative process, and didn't even realize I was next in line until Ava joked that she often got lost watching him herself. I imagine she does.

I left and I don't think Sasuke knew I was there. I was invisible. No, that's not right. He has too much control to not have known when I walked in and when I left. He simply didn't want to invite conversation or attention. I guess it's about being in his creative zone, because when he comes into the gallery, he's friendly. But he's hard to figure out, and I didn't expect for him to notice me. I never do. But... for some reason, today it bothered me.

_Evening..._

There were hardly any customers in the gallery, so I had to cold call and try to get people into the store. Temari was busy preparing for a private party being held at the gallery tomorrow night. She wasn't happy that I didn't want to help. I think she gets some sort of bonus for booking these events, and I think it motivates her more than the art. And it's not that I don't want to help. It's simply not a smart use of my time. Booking a ten-thousand-dollar event that we net only five thousand on doesn't equal selling one expensive piece of art. So today I was snubbed by a famous artist and Temari was irritated at me. And now I'm staring at the contract.

Somehow, I don't think tonight is the night to call my would-be "Master" and tell him I can't let him tie me up and have his wicked way with me, no matter how tempting that sounds at this moment. I'm not sure what that says about me-that I want to be tied up and at his mercy on a night I feel weak. Maybe it's what he said. That I need a safe place where I can just let go. The problem is, the contract makes that incapable of truly happening.

And on that note, I'm going to end this day the only way I can. I'm going to eat an entire bag of potato chips and go with my box of cereal. I'll regret both in the morning, but at least I'll still be in control of me.

* * *

><p><em>Friday, February 25, 2011<em>

_Lunch Time..._

Naruto called me into his office this morning, before I left for a private showing at Kiba's gallery. I wasn't sure what to expect. I always steel myself for the impact of being alone with him. He owns you when you walk into the room. He owns you when he walks into a room. And while I'm not immune to the impact he has on everyone around him, I've often been challenged by him, eager to prove I can hold my own. Today was odd for me, because I never had a chance to do that. But it really shouldn't surprise me, I guess. I'm still rattled by the way he confronted me over Toneri and Kiba.

He didn't get up from his desk. He simply steepled his fingers together and ordered, "Shut the door." I did as he said and added, "I know you're leaving for a meeting, so I'll make this quick. You do know Kiba doesn't allow private showings?"

"No. I didn't know."

"He doesn't even allow us a full collection here."

"W-why?" I asked.

"He's all about leverage. And to be clear, Ms. Hyuga, I will not allow him to use his art to manipulate you. We do not need his business-not with our Riptide connections. And you do not need his commissions. Not with the potential Riptide offers you."

"But-but you said you don't want to lose him as an artist."

"I repeat, I will not allow him to manipulate you," was his only explanation of conflicting messages.

"I won't let him."

"I won't let him. Do you understand, Ms. Hyuga?"

"Y-yes," I whispered.

"You aren't convincing me."

"Yes," I said more clearly. "I understand."

I let his office confused and bemused. I've gone from having no men in my life to being surrounded by powerful, talented, rich, controlling me, and it's messing with my head. I can't seem to figure it out where I stand and where I belong.

When I took the client to Kiba's gallery, the woman didn't make a purchase and I felt embarrassed. I wanted to impress Kiba and Naruto with a sale. I wanted Kiba to know I am not wasting his time. He looked at me with gentle understanding eyes that twisted me in knots. There is nothing about him that says manipulative to me. Nothing that says he is what everyone else says he is.

I left with my client, wishing I could have stayed and talked to Kiba. I didn't call him later in the day, either, though I was tempted. I don't know what it is about him that sets everyone else off, but it doesn't happen to me. If anything, he relaxes me. Well, when I put aside how talented and famous he is.

I'm feeling very out of control. I need to figure out what is wrong with me. I have a dream job. This is what I've always wanted. I need to snap out of whatever is bugging me, and I'm hoping the weekend will give me time to think.

* * *

><p><em>Saturday, February 26, 2011<em>

_Evening..._

I decided what was bugging me was the contract, and my constant distraction due to the ideas it represents. No matter how tempting the man, the agreement is simply a deal breaker, and I think its being up in the air is influencing how I react to everything. Saying no to this contract is a good thing. The man is barely in my life and he's already taken it over. He can be in my life without taking it over if I take this off the table.

So... I emailed him the instant I got him, before I could talk myself out of it. The subject line was: Contract is a deal breaker. The content of the email read simply, "While you are more than a little tempting in all kinds of ways, I'm not slave material." That was an hour ago, and I keep checking my email-which is telling, isn't it? Clearly I don't want this to be over, or I'd consider it done now.

Someone just knocked on my door. It's eleven o'clock at night. Who could possibly be here?

* * *

><p><em>Sunday, February 27, 2011<em>

I could barely believe it when he showed up at my door in response to my email. I just stood there, staring at him, wrapped in a robe and horrified that I had on my ugly fluffy pajamas underneath.

"Invite me in, Ms. Hyuga."

Obediently, I stepped back and let him inside. He shut the door and locked it. Now he just stood there, staring at me, and curiously, I thought I spotted a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. He's not exactly what I would call uncertain. He's not exactly what anyone would call uncertain. That I could make him feel such a thing told me what I needed to know. The outcome of what was between us wasn't simply a contract to him. I didn't realize until then how much I didn't want to be that to him.

"Let's sit," he ordered, no uncertainty left in his voice or his expression.

I wet my lips, his blue eyes following my tongue, and my body responds, my nipples tightened and my sex clenched with the small, sensual act. With all the things that happened afterward, you'd think that would be the last thing that I'd keep replaying in my head. But it was that, along with the instant of uncertainty I'd seen in him, that told me he wanted me as much as I wanted him. These two things set the scene for what was to follow.

"Sit, Hinata," he ordered again, and I was jolted from his spell and walked to the couch. My tiny box of an apartment embarrassed me; it's a shack compared to his gorgeous place. If he noticed, though, which of course he did, he didn't show it. He was looking at nothing but me.

He sat down on the couch, leaving the middle cushion between us free, and I got the impression he felt that I needed that space. He was right. I needed it-but I didn't want it. I wanted to be close to him. I wanted him to touch me. I always do when he's nearby.

"The contract was to be negotiated," he reminded me. "I told you that when I gave it to you."

"Y-yes, I know."

"Yet you simply said no."

"It felt overwhelming."

He considered me for such a long moment, I was about to go nuts. "You want this," he finally said.

"I want you," I surprised myself by admitting. I just couldn't live with the terms required to have him.

"Then you have to trust me with your pleasure."

"The contract asked for far more than my pleasure."

"And why is that bad?"

"You want too much."

"How do you define too much?"

_Sharing me_. "The unknowns," I said, which was still an honest answer. "I don't even understand what a lot of the things in that contract truly mean."

"And if we can take away the unknowns?"

Before I knew his intent, I was on my back, and his big body was sliding over mine, the scent of him insinuating itself into my nostrils. God, I love how that man smells. I can still smell him in my apartment now as I write this.

"I'll teach you what they mean," he promised.

The idea of him teaching me was/is unbelievably arousing, as was the thick press of his erection against my stomach that assured me he wanted me that night. Still, I have limits. And Dr. Kat had told me to tell him my limits, so I said, "There are things in that contract I'll never agree to."

"Then we take them out."

"What if they're things you want?"

"We'll negotiate. One of the best parts of the contract is openly discussing what we both want. It's about trust. You tell me what's okay. You know I won't cross that line, and you always have your safe word. You're the one in control."

"How am I in control?"

"You set the limits and we stop when you say stop. That's total control, something you don't have in a different type of relationship."

This was news to me. I hadn't thought about this relationship in that way until then.

"You have your safe word," he added. "You say it-I stop whatever I'm doing. You remember what it is?"

"Red," I said, breathless. He's good at making me breathless.

"Good," he approved and his eyes glistened with desire. "I'm going to do something I've not done in a long time. I'm going to set the contract aside for now. We'll go one lesson at a time, and I'll teach you what everything means."

A long time? "Why would you do that?"

"Because I want you as my sub, Hinata, like I haven't wanted another sub in a very long time. Say 'yes' and we'll go one lesson at a time. I'll be the teacher and you'll be the student."

Suddenly I had the hope I wanted, the confirmation that I wasn't just a contract. I didn't hesitate. "Yes."

I felt his instant approval, saw it in the darkening of his cerulean eyes. "Good girl."

He undressed me then, and I let him. Then, he undressed himself. I wasn't shy about watching every delicious inch of skin appear, nor was I shy about my appreciation of his jutting erection as he put on a condom.

When he came back to me, pulling me beneath him again, I was already lost in desire and ready for him. Of course, nothing is fast and simple with this man. I should have known that. "There's a few more rules," he said, and his breath was warm on my neck, his lips by my ear.

"R-rules?" I asked, feeling nervous all over again, some of the haze of desire slipping away.

"You call me 'Master,' so you can get used to it."

This I could do. It was the one thing in the contract I found the least intimidating. "Yes. Okay."

"Say it." He caressed my breast and teased my nipple, as if encouraging me. Like I would deny him his title while he was doing that to me? I'd been easy prey.

"Master," I whispered with surprising comfort.

He slid down and licked my nipple. "Again," he commanded.

"Master," I panted. I've never been a panting person, but this man makes me pant. He makes me do a lot of things that I'd never do for another man.

And since he'd rewarded me for my compliance by suckling and licking my nipples, I was sold on the "Master" title. If it makes him happy, apparently he'll make me happy.

Well, mostly happy. I do keep finding little things that worry me. Like how his mouth had moved to linger above mine but hadn't kissed me. And I realized that he hadn't kissed me many times at all.

"You will call me 'Master' when we're alone," he instructed next. (Still no kiss.) "In public, we remain as we are. What we are beyond that is between us."

My heart sank. My conclusion then, and now, is that he wants to basically own me without claiming me. And how am I to separate the times we meet for work with this?

I'd been back to feeling like there was a contract, but he'd distracted me. His mouth had gone back to my nipple, his tongue swirling and teasing. His cock slid against my slick, swollen body, and I forgot what we were talking about for a few minutes.

Only the talk wasn't over. "Final rule," he said, teasing me with eh promise he was going to enter me to the point I couldn't think. "Until we sign our contract, your safe word is everything. Use it liberally. Use it, and I'll stop whatever I'm doing. Say it now."

"But I don't want you to stop."

He laughed, soft and wicked, the first time I've ever heard him laugh. "I just want to know that you know what it is."

"I do."

"Use it and no matter what we are doing, no matter how intense it is, no matter where we are, I'll end whatever we are doing. You have my word. But you won't need it tonight. I'll guarantee it."

And oh, how true that guarantee had been. My "Master" proceeded to show me a side of himself I wouldn't have believed existed. I hesitate to say that he made love to me, because "love" is a word that scares the hell out of me. And he's not a man to fall in love with. I've been reminding myself of that fact ever since I met him.

So maybe he didn't make love to me, but it didn't feel like fucking, either. There were no floggers. There were no ropes or ties. Just his mouth, his hands, and my pleasure. He didn't ask anything of me, but... he didn't let me touch him, either. It was all about him touching me-not that I can complain. I've never felt like I did last night. Every lick, from my nipples to my clit, was a soft, delicious, seductive stroke that turned me inside out.

But he also left me in the wee hours of the morning, leaving me alone in bed. It had felt bad. Alone has always felt safe, not bad, so I'm not sure what it means that it no longer does.

Maybe it's the nightmares messing with me. Maybe it's my worst fear-that he's going to make me forget how to be alone. Yet didn't he quickly remind me I am alone?

Worse, I've agreed to lessons on how to be submissive, but I have no idea when we will have our meeting. He promised to be in touch. I am totally at his mercy.

He says I have ultimate control. This does not feel like control.

What have I done? This isn't what I want..

* * *

><p><strong>Oh Hinata, Hinata Hinata what have you done? Poor thing.<strong>

So... I hope you guys know who the Master is now, I left some hints in this chapter ;)

I believe this is the longest chapter I've had here in this story LOL

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please review, favorite and follow, make me happy!

Until next week!


	6. Chapter 6

**I want to apologize for taking so long to update, so I took extra time on this chapter for you guys!**

**btw.. I have one question that has nothing to do with this story.. How the hell do you get your hair to be platinum/silver?!**  
><strong>My hair has always been brown FOR EVER and I dyed it black not too long ago and the color only lasted for 2 weeks. Then it turned brownish red. and I hate it! So I had one of my friends bleach it aiming for a lighter tone and guess what? My hair is literally orange. like carrots and oranges and grapefruits orange... so I bleached it again and its still orange. any tips?<strong>

Anyway.. This story is Rated M

I do not own Naruto!

Don't forget to check out my other story If I Were Her it is also part of this story and there is also some naruhina.

Happy reading!

* * *

><p>Hinata's Lost Journals.<p>

* * *

><p>Monday,<em> March 7, 2011<em>

Nearly Lunchtime...

After sleepless night, I headed to the coffee shop before work. Ava was chatty. She wants to talk men and personal lives every time she sees me, and I've never felt less like connecting with someone else about my personal life than I do now. I prefer to write down my thoughts. Writing lets me think out what I feel without anyone else influencing me, and that isn't likely to change. I'm beginning to want to avoid the coffee shop. In a space of ten minutes, Ava has asked me about Kiba, Naruto, Sasuke, and another artist who apparently comes into the gallery sometimes, but hasn't since I arrived.

While I was still there, the client I took to Kiba's private gallery called my cell phone to see if she could take a relative by to see a work she was thinking of buying. Ava was all over my reaction, which was pure dread, and wanted to know what was wrong. I didn't tell her. She was nothing but friendly, but I don't even share my worries and concerns with long-term friends. Besides, she's gorgeous and composed, eight years older than me, and apparently from a wealthy family, from what she said today. What do we have in common?

Oh, right. The men in our lives that she knows well and I don't. Finding out that she has bedded, or could bed, all of them won't help me. In fact, it might really mess with my head. I'd rather not know.

When I arrived at the gallery, it took me half an hour to make the dreaded call to Kiba to ask to drop by with my customer. I kept thinking about Naruto telling me that Kiba never does private showings, and how this would probably feel very intrusive to him.

What if he refused? I'd have an unhappy customer and an unhappy artist, which meant an unhappy Naruto. An unhappy Naruto isn't on my list of things to do, any more than wasting Kiba's time again is. I was actually relieved to get Kiba's voicemail and be forced to leave a message.

But what made me open my journal right now to write is Temari. She's bothering me beyond her basic bitchiness, and something very odd happened today with her. She was in Naruto's office for about fifteen minutes and then stormed by my office in an obvious hissy fit. Apparently she left the gallery, and no one knows where she is. I'd thought from the beginning that her job was on the line, but since I've gained respect for how well she handles events. I'm just not sure she wants to handle them. Maybe the new intern who started today was brought in to replace that part of her job, and I'm handling the sales aspect?

I have a customer. More later.

_Evening..._

I'm still in disbelief. I can't believe what I did today. In a public place! After I finished with my customer, Temari returned to the gallery all smiley and happy, in a way she never acts. I'm not sure what that means, but when I volunteered to pick up sandwiches for me, Hanabi, the new intern, and Lee, she not only wanted to join us, she offered to pick them up. A very odd offer from her, and way too nice to fit her personality. Somehow, though, the sandwiches turned to pizza, so I headed to the sandwich shop on my own.

Truth be told, I needed some fresh air. All morning I'd been thinking about Saturday night, and how I'd actually said "Yes, Master" in hopes of being rewarded with another lick or flick or touch, when I should have been focused on work. And when I wasn't thinking about sex today, I was overanalyzing everything in my life in a way I've never done before.

I have my dream job, and I'm distracted, which I would never have thought possible. Everything used to be so simple. I wanted to work in the art world, and I drove my life toward that. Then my mother died and I have to pay the bills, so I drove my life toward that. I was in control of what I was doing, even if I wasn't happy about the direction I was headed. Now, I'm in this complicated web but still living a dream, and it's unfamiliar and strange, but exciting. And control? After today, I can say with certainty that it is lost.

Which brings me back to the crazy thing I let myself do. I braved the chilly San Francisco weather to walk several blocks to the deli, all bundled up. Everything was so normal when I entered the small restaurant. I ordered an egg salad sandwich and sat down at one of the small tables by the door with my food and my journal, intending to start this entry. That's when my cell phone buzzed with a text from him. **Go into the restroom** it read.

Adrenaline rushed through me to the point that I could barely catch my breath. He was here? How was that possible? No, I told myself; he didn't say he was here. He just ordered me to the restroom. Who knew what kind of mind games he played as "Master"? I was in new territory. Knowing this, I pulled myself together and calmed down. But I was eager to discover what he wanted.

Quickly, I stood up and headed to the restroom, leaving my lunch on the table. The sign led me down a narrow hall to the left where there were two unisex doors. I took a guess, opened the first door, and went inside. He was there looking deliciously him. (How else do you describe perfection?) Heat poured through me and settled in my belly.

He stepped forward, removing the small space between us, towering above me. "Put your purse on the counter," he ordered softly.

I shoved it onto the counter I hadn't even looked at. Who cares what the restroom looks like when he's in it?

"What were you supposed to reply to my order, Hinata?" he asked, and there was no missing the warning in his voice.

It took me a moment to process, but I remembered what I'd been taught Saturday night, how I'm to reply to everything he commands. "Yes, Master."

"Take off your panties."

The order aroused me like I've never been aroused, but the, I say that about a lot of things with this man. I also do a lot of this willingly I'd have never thought I would. "Yes, Master," I replied again, and the heated approval in his blue eyes was like a stroke of his hand over my already aching sex.

I tugged the skirt of my pencil-cut black dress up to my hips and slipped my tiny purple thong down my legs and over my high heels. When I started to tug down my hem, he ordered me to leave it up so that I was bare for his viewing. I complied and gave him another "Yes, Master."

The I dared to dangle my panties by my finger, because, well, what else was a girl going to do in that situation? He took them from me and, without touching me, stuffed them in his pocket. I knew I wasn't getting them back. He'd have that little part of me with him the rest of the day and I'd be bare, thinking of him and what we wouldn't have time to do in a public restroom. The panties ensured that he would, too.

"Unzip your dress and let me see your nipples," he ordered next. Someone knocked on the door and he added, "Ignore them. Do as I said."

I can't believe, knowing where I was, how busy the deli was, that I didn't hesitate. I reached for my zipper. "Stop," he said, and he did not sound pleased.

My heart lurched at the hard-spoken word and I froze, staring at him an instant before I knew what he wanted. "Yes, Master," I said quickly.

He inclined his chin and I tugged down the front of my dress, then shoved my purple bra out of the way. His gaze swept downward, over my aroused nipples, and I reacted so completely, feeling him all over and burning for him to touch me and be inside me, that he might as well have physically touched me all over. I'd never wanted any man like I wanted this man in that restroom.

His gaze lifted from my breast and held mine. "Touch them," he ordered as someone jiggled the door handle behind me.

This time, I ignored the person trying to get in. "Yes, Master." I touched my nipples and teased them and his hot stare was my reward.

"Good," came his approval (another reward), but it was followed by what felt like punishment. He stepped back, putting more space between us, then leaned on the wall and crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Make yourself come."

"I can't here," I gasped, and the floor just about feel out from underneath me. "People want the restroom."

"You can and you will."

The door jiggled again. "I'll be out in a minute!" I snapped impatiently. He arched and amused brow at my outburst, seemingly unaffected by the intrusion. But then, he wasn't the on who had to make himself come while people demanded entry.

"The sooner you come," he told me. "the sooner we walk out of here."

I'd never masturbated for a man before and surely not in a public place, but as panicked as I felt in that moment, I never doubted I was going to do what he wanted. I'm not sure what that says about me or how about he affects me. Not only did I know I was going to do it, I was so damn aroused by the idea that I was burning up, hot and weak in the knees all over again. I knew we couldn't get caught. We might get yelled at for being in the restroom, but no one could prove we had done anything but talk. That comforted me. I could be naughty with him, but I wasn't going to get in trouble.

I drew a breath, issued my "Yes, Master," spread my legs wider, and slid my fingers down to my clit to stroke. I watched him watch me, encouraged by the darkening of his eyes, as I explore the silky wet heat of my arousal. His watching me made me wetter, hotter, and more needy. Pleasure overtook me, lowering my lashes, and I let it, ripples of sensation weakening my knees, and I orgasmed with amazing speed. When I finally opened my eyes again, he was standing in front of me.

"You're meant for this, Hinata, and you looked exquisite, coming like that." He slid a finger between my legs and the sucked it into his mouth. "And now I'll have you on my lips the rest of the day."

He reached for the door and I quickly pulled my clothes together, but by the time I did he was gone. I snatched my purse up as a woman walked in and gasped when she realized I'd been inside the room with a man. I hurried out into the hallway and to my table, expecting my "Master" would be waiting. But he wasn't there.

I gathered my coat and sandwich and quickly headed for the gallery, where I spent the afternoon excruciatingly aware of my pantyless state. That was what he'd planned, what he wanted.

I don't buy into me having all the control just because I have a safe word. I have no control where this man is connected. That should make me run for the hills, but I know I'm not going anywhere except where he leads me. I hope that isn't a mistake, but I can't find the will to care.

* * *

><p><em>Wednesday, march 9, 2011<em>

Lunch time at my desk...

Kiba was not only fine with the private showing, he didn't seem upset at all, which is a relief. I hope the client calls me back soon, because I've left Kiba in limbo about when we are coming by. He is tolerant now, but how long will that last?

Okay... Temari jus popped into my office and asked if I needed anything while she was out. This can't be the same woman who all but called me a whore. Have I entered an alternate universe where she got some sort of magic paper fan?

_Almost time to go home..._

Seven o'clock and it's time to pack up and leave the gallery. No call from my client about visiting Kiba's gallery. To top that off, there has been no erotic "Master" encounter today and I am disappointed. But then, I guess he's not my Master yet, so I shouldn't expect a daily demand from him. Should I once he's my master? I mean IF he's my Master. The contract makes me think he pretty much intends to dictate to me daily. Hmmm... this makes me think, and I don't like where my head is going. Does he have another submissive right now? Will he have more than one when he's with me? The contract does talk about sharing me with others. Oh, God. This idea upsets me. I have to text him. Or should I call him? Texting is less intimidating. I'll text. Maybe. I need to go home and think about this.

_At home now..._

Thinking has made me certain I need an answer. If I am one of many submissives, then this is over. I'm going to text. That way, if I find out I'm one of many, I can flip out in the privacy of my apartment.

* * *

><p><em>Thursday, March 10, 2011<em>

Work came early today since I basically didn't sleep last night. So much has happened since I sent that text to my would-be-"Master." He replied immediately and told me he was sending a car to pick me up so we could talk. He didn't ask if he could send a car. He just told me he was.

I remember sitting there reading the text, and it wasn't the order that bothered me. It was the fact that he hadn't simply replied that I was the only woman he was with at the present. I'd considered texting him again and asking, but my gut said he wouldn't reply until I went to him. I replied that I'd be waiting for the car.

I didn't change clothes or pretty myself up while I waited for my ride to arrive. I left on my navy blue sheath dress from work. I wanted answers, not sex, and that was the message I set out to deliver. The possibility of being one of several women had really changed everything for me. I don't know why, but that idea had hit me far harder than the idea of being shared. I didn't like it either, but I _really_ didn't like being just a number and a contract.

When the car dropped me at his home, I headed down the walkway. The instant I lifted my hand to knock, he appeared in the doorway. Seeing him sent a rush of heat through me and froze me in place. I always react to that first instant I see him, but for some reason it was more intense than usual. Maybe because I'd decided that I might walk away from what he'd been offering me.

I searched his expression, as usual, and I wondered how many times he'd had to calm a potential submissive. What number was I for him?

He surprised me y taking my hand, touching me easily, when his touch always feels like a reward to be earned. Guiding me to the foyer, he shut the door and then turned to me, wasting no time answering my question from the earlier text. "The contract states exclusivity for both if us, with the option of bringing others into our play as I see fit."

My stomach knotted at the confirmation that he intended to invite others into our play, and I tried to pull my hand back.

He held me easily and I found myself molded close to him, the hard length of him pressed to my body, our legs entwined. His hand had settled on my back, possessive and firm. "What did I say that upset you?"

My fingers curled on his chest. "E-exclusive and sharing. How do those two things go together?"

"Everything we enjoy, we enjoy together. And ultimately, everything I do with you is about your pleasure."

"If-if I don't think sharing is pleasurable?"

"How do you know if you don't try?"

"I-I know it bothers me."

"And I ask you to try everything once. If you don't like it, we won't repeat it."

_Once_? I wasn't sure I could say yes. I don't think I would have, if things had been different, but I had no idea what I'd walked into.

"If this is your worst fear," he said, "the it's better that we deal with it now, not later." he released me, the warmth of his body leaving mine, his fingers twining with mine. I let him lead me to the bedroom when perhaps I shouldn't have. It was there that I quickly learned what I had in store.

There was another man there-tall and gorgeous, dark where my "Master" was light, wearing jeans and a T-shirt that molded a perfect sculpted body. To say that my heart lurched is an understatement. I could barely breathe.

My Master stepped behind me, his hands settling possessively at my waist, his lips lowering to my ear. "Try it once. Do this for me."

"I-I don't know," I whispered, surprising myself. I hadn't said no-I'd said maybe.

"You have your safe word," he immediately replied. "Use it and we stop."

Thinking back now, the most profound moments of the night followed that promise from him. Everything had gone into slow motion. My Master's hands on my body, caressing my sides, my breast. The other man, whose name I still don't know, watching me with a heated, anxious expression on his face.

"One time," my Master whispered. "I just ask for one time, Hinata-chan."

I remember wanting to please him, or telling myself that was what I wanted, and then saying yes.

"Good girl," he murmured, and the other man had smiled and stepped forward. Before I had time to back out, the stranger was sliding his hands to my waist, his thighs melded to mine. It seemed like in a blink of time all three of us were naked. I have these random memories. Me on my knees. My master behind me, holding my breast. The stranger licking my nipples. The stranger pressing fingers inside me. Both men inside me at the same time. I'd never dreamed that was possible, or that it could be pleasurable. Those two men together...

I can't deny it _was_ pleasurable, yet I'm still bothered by how easily my Master allowed another man to touch me. I can't be special to him, or he'd want me all to himself, right? I don't want to share him with another woman. It's all so very confusing... and though I have time to try new things while I decide if I am going to sign the contract, I don't like this state of limbo, or the way exclusivity begins only after I sign the contract. I need closure and certainty sooner than later.

* * *

><p><em>Friday, March 11, 2011<em>

Today my job took over in the most wonderful way, and I was able to quickly forget about the contract. I started out the morning with a sale. it wasn't a big one, but it was still a sale. I set up the meeting with Kiba and my client for Monday. The most exciting part, though, was Sasuke coming by the gallery and my being called into Naruto's office. I soon forgot about being nervous when I heard the reason I was there. Sasuke set up a charity event for next month with us, and he's going to unveil a new work that will later be auctioned off at Riptide for his charity. Naruto and Sasuke asked me to organize it, instead of Temari, since it's attached to Riptide.

I am beyond elated! A new work from Sasuke? People will be fighting for tickets to see him unveil a new work. This is so exciting, and I'm eager to dig into the details tomorrow.

As for my decision to be submissive, well, I've been reading up on the internet on BDSM and I've been turning in to the Dr. Kat show quite often. I'm thinking about calling her again. I need someone who understands the dynamics of the Master/Sub relationship, and I like the anonymity of calling in.

Aside from that, I'm supposed to have another lesson tomorrow night at his place. I just hope there are only two of us-not three.

* * *

><p><em>Saturday, March 12, 2011<em>

Morning...

The nightmare came back. I _hate_ that damn nightmare. I hate how real the icy water feels, pouring into my lungs. And I hate my mother's perfume, which I used to love. That sense of doom is back. I hadn't even realized it had left until it returned. At least tonight, I'll be lost in some kind of sexual fantasy sure to make me forget. Escaping into his world sounds very good right now.

* * *

><p><em>Sunday, March 13, 2011<em>

Last night I went to his house for a lesson, and it was just the two of us. It was sexy and amazing. He tied me up and produced a pair of nipple clamps. I'd never been clamped and it hurt at first, but it was sweet bliss once the ache faded. He'd told me he was my escape, my place where I could let the rest of the world fade away. And it did, It was one of the few times in my life that I have ever fully let go. I didn't think; I just let myself get lost in what I felt. He'd made me feel that safe.

But then he'd sent me home with a driver, and I crashed hard and felt alone all over again. The kind of alone that feels bad.

I think I'm already falling for him. I think I could fall in love with him. But is a man who is all about Master and sub capable of falling in love? Could he ever be happy with just me? There are moments when I see something in his eyes, when I feel something in his touch, and I believe he already does. When he sent me home, I almost thought it was because he wanted to escape what he felt. But that might just be me hoping for more than a contractual arrangement.

I don't want to set myself up for the heartbreak, but maybe it's too late to avoid. Maybe I am destined to have my heart ripped to pieces by this man-because I know as I write this that I can't walk away from him. I need to sign the contract and put the uncertainty and worry aside. I thought about calling in to the Dr. Kat show, hoping she would talk me out of such a rash action, but I know she won't. I've made up my mind. I'm going to sign the contract.

And whatever will be, will be..

* * *

><p><em><strong>Journal 6, entry 1<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>Monday, March 14, 2011<em>

7:00 a.m.

I, Hinata Hyuga, belong to him, my new Master. Or I will as soon as I sign the contract he's given me to set the terms for our Master/sub relationship.

I woke a few minutes ago with these thoughts, and now, sitting at the kitchen table of my little San Francisco apartment, excitement is running through me. Now that I've decided to sign the contract, idea of being "his" is down right intoxicating. Still, I'm glad I was the cautious girl that I am, and made myself sleep on the decision. Considering my recent nightmares, my good night's rest speaks loudly. I'm at peace with my decision to sign the contract.

Still, how crazy is it for me to feel this confident about giving myself to someone else? Only a few weeks ago, I would have never believed this possible. Before "him," the idea of being submissive to anyone simply wasn't comprehensible. All my life has been about learning form my single mother to control my own destiny and stand on my own two feet. Handing over the complete control to another person simply wasn't an option... until him. Now, how do I tell him I'm signing our contract? A text? A call? Meet him in person? Hmmm... off to shower and think about this...

While I was in the shower, I came up with the perfect way to tell him I'm his. First, the right attire. I've dressed in a pale pink dress the color of spring roses, one that hugs my curves (To get his attention) without being overly sexy for work. It's also perfect for an event being held at the gallery tonight. I just have to throw on a little lace jacket I recently purchased to spice it up.

Next, I took the big plunge and inked the contract. I then slipped on the beautifully designed ring with an etched rose he'd given me to wear after signing the contract, as a symbol that I am his. So it's on my finger and I keep sitting here staring at it, expecting fear or regret, but I feel none. I feel right about this.

It's crazy how my life has changed in a matter of weeks. I dared to chase my dream of working in the art world, taking a low-paying job at the gallery that required me to work a second job to pay the bills. Then, miraculously, that gamble paid off with a chance to earn big commissions through Naruto's auction house. I have a new career, and I'm discovering a new, daring part of me, a part I can't wait to explore further. And I have "him." Or I will by the end of today.

All that is left now is for me to take a picture of both he contract and the ring on my finger. Then I'll text the photos to him. Okay... done. Photos taken. I'm about to send the text messages. I'm nervous and excited. This is it. I'm really doing this.

_Almost 1:00 p.m. and my lunch time..._

I haven't seen or heard form "him" since I texted the pictures. Not a word.

The decision was huge for me, and I thought he'd know that and respond. I feel uncertain. I feel... confused. The gallery I normally love feels like a prison I need to escape. I'm leaving for lunch just to get out of here, though I know I won't be able to eat. I guess I'll walk to the chocolate shop and buy about ten pounds of the best they have, go to the coffee shop for caffeine, and then pig out. Chocolate isn't food; it's a drug meant to cure all. It should make me feel better, at least while I'm consuming it. There will be regret afterward, but if it's the only regret I feel today, I'm okay with that.

_2:00 p.m. Back at the gallery in my office..._

I saw him, my would-be, should-be-already Master, who is twisting me in knots. The chocolate/coffee plan turned into the encounter with him I'd been waiting on all morning. After I bought my chocolate, I headed straight to the coffee shop, where I found a corner booth (and hoped to dodge Ava, the chatty owner of the place who is always trying to dig up gallery gossip from me).

I'd just settled into my seat when the air shifted around me, telling me he'd stepped into the shop even before I saw him. I always know when he's around. There's this subtle energy that seems to crackle in the air, and I know I'm not the only person who feels it. I can see how the gazes around me seek him out, how attention finds him.

My nerves went haywire at the knowledge he was there. My stomach flittered and my heart raced so quickly, I actually felt faint.

I kept replaying the moment he came into view and stole my breath, as he always does. Tall and broad, he sauntered toward me with a sleek, feline grace, and I had the sense he was stalking his prey and that prey was me. His eyes found mine, or maybe mine found his, and the hardness in their depths ad actually made my chest hurt. He affects me that much, like no other man, or anyone, ever has. He was angry. I had no idea why, but he was angry. I knew then what his silence had already told me; I just didn't want tot admit it. I'd dared to open myself up to him and he was going to reject me.

I had to cut my gaze away from his in an effort to recover my lost composure. I rarely feel out of sorts in such a way. My skin tingled and almost burned as he neared, closing in on me, and I cursed my inability to control my physical response to him. I can still feel the dread that filled me, paralyzed me, when he stood my table, towering above me.

"Look at me," he demanded softly, but there was no softness to the command. I forced my gaze back to his and those hard eyes were still hard. Still angry. Some part of me had hoped that I'd read him wrong moments before.

I didn't speak. I couldn't speak. I simply had no idea what to say; I didn't even fully understand what I felt.

"You don't sign the agreement or put on the ring until I say you're ready," he said in a low, commanding reprimand.

I was stunned. This wasn't a rejection. It was a... I don't know what. "But you tried to convince me to s-sign-"

"To be open to signing," he corrected. "And then, only when I say you're ready-not a moment before."

"I am ready," I declared.

"He leaned down, hands pressed to the table in front of me, his erotic scent teasing my nostrils. He reveled me in a stare, and that cruel, amazing mouth of his was so near I could feel his hot breath on my lips. "No," he said tightly. "You are not ready and clearly you still don't understand the rules. But you will. Take off the ring until I say otherwise."

My chest had tightened to the point of misery. I remember thinking, "Do I really want to be with someone who can make me feel pain so easily?" But as much as I knew what my answer should be, I heard myself ask him, "Are you serious?"

"Do I ever say anything I don't mean?"

I stared at him for several seconds and decided that no, he did not. I took off the ring. When I tried to hand it to him he said, "Keep it, but you don't wear it until I say you can." His lips thinned. "Now. Let's go to the restroom and finish this conversation."

My mind immediately raced. Who was in the coffee shop? Who would see us go to the restroom as a pair? "What-what if someone sees us?"

He just stared at me, the look on his face as steely as any I'd ever seen. He fully intended me to do as he wished. I knew that if I didn't, this thing between us would end there and then.

With my fingers curled around the ring, the sharp corners into my tender flesh, I stood up. He straightened with me and somehow I resisted the urge to scan for who might be watching us. He stepped backward, gibing me just enough space to pass him, and I was thankful we were so close to the back of the shop and the restroom that perhaps we wouldn't be seen together. It was the façade I needed to be able to move forward.

Once I managed to walk, I quickly cut to my left down a small hall before rushing into the bathroom. My awareness of his joining me in the small space was instant; the tiny box of a room suddenly made me feel like a caged animal, wild and uncertain. My emotions were a jumble of uncontrollable knots that he was pilling tighter.

I heard the lock seal us inside, and I started to turn when he grabbed me and pressed me against the sink. My fingers curled around the white ceramic as he yanked my snug-fitted dress up my hips. Then he was at my side, his thick erection resting on my hip, his fingers sliding between my thighs, under the black silk of my thong, But what stilled my heart and then set it racing was the way the palm of his other hand began to caress my bare backside.

"Do you know why you aren't ready?" he asked, his head resting against mine, his fingers doing a delicious slide over my clit.

"I am ready," I declared-and while I tried to sound firm, my voice was a raspy whisper.

"No," he insisted. "You aren't ready because you don't understand the rules."

He slipped two fingers inside me and I panted at the intimate invasion, ripples of pleasure pulsing through me, as he added, "You don't do anything unless I say you do it. That especially applies to signing the contract."

"I thought-"

"Did you?" he challenged, flicking my clit with his thumb. "I'm not sure you did."

I opened my mouth to reply but one of his hands still caressed my backside, and the strokes became rougher, his fingers kneading into my flesh. Sudden realization overcame me. He was going to spank me. I knew it and it terrified and aroused me. I didn't know how that was possible then, any more than I do now as I write this.

"Did you read every line of the document, Hinata?"

"Y-yes." I barely whispered the reply due to the sensations ravishing my body. His hand was still stroking my backside, his fingers stroking inside me.

"Then you must understand that acting without my permission comes with punishment."

"I-I didn't think... I-"

"Exactly. You have to learn to think. You cannot be a sub, my sub, and not understand the rules and the consequences of misbehaving. I intend to give you a lesson on those things, Hinata. Do you want that lesson?"

No. Yes. What lesson? "You mean now, or...?"

"Now," he said firmly.

Looking back now, I should have said "no" or asked questions. I didn't. I felt pressured to do as he wished, and his fingers were doing delicious things to my body. Actually, I'm lying to myself. I don't think I felt pressured at all. I think I wanted to know what he would do to me. The truth is that all I was really thinking was to say "yes" so his fingers would keep doing exactly what they were doing in the exact spot they were in.

"Yes," I gasped, and his fingers sent wicked, wonderful sensations spiraling through me. "I want the lesson."

"Yes, what?" he demanded.

"Yes, Master."

Instead of rewarding me for my agreement with the orgasm I so desired, his fingers stopped teasing me, sliding away so that his hand rested on my pelvis. I wanted to cry out, to demand satisfaction, but I was stayed by the way his palm on my backside stilled and flexed into my skin.

"I'm going to spank you, Hinata," he declared, "and you need to know that I will do it again, or use other forms of punishment if we move forward beyonf today and you fail to follow our rules. Understand?"

No. No, I did not. I was scared and confused, but I was also aroused and curious. I wanted him. I want him eve now, no matter how much he's twisted me in knots. I knew I couldn't turn back.

"Yes. I understand." I'd barely issued the approval when his hand came down hard. I gasped as the sensation rocked me, and I struggled to identify what I felt. My stomach knotted with the sting of my flesh that spiraled through me, and then, to my shock, tightened my sex. The rest of the punishment was fast and hard, ten full contacts of his palm, I think, all of which were harder, stronger. I had a moment when I was confused by the pleasure rippling through me and I thought I should object, I should scream my safe word, "red," but my voice was swollen in my throat, and any protest with it.

The assault of his hand stopped suddenly and his fingers slid back between my thighs, and I was shocked that I was slick and wet and aroused. It was beyond belief, considering what he'd just done to me. But I was, and when he slipped his fingers back inside me and stroking my swollen flesh, I shattered almost instantly. It was breathtakingly good. He'd spanked me and I had one of the best orgasms ever, but I'd recovered angry and confused. Embarrassed. I still am.

"I will never leave you with anything but pleasure," he murmured. "Remember that."

"And I will never go to another public restroom with you," I ground out. "This is the last time."

His response was to gently pull my dress back into place and then turn me to face him. "You will if I say you will."

His tone was matter-of-fact, as if he didn't even acknowledge my anger. And then he stepped back and gave me space.

Both pissed me off more than ever, and I blasted him, "People I work with come here, and I have to walk out there and pretend I didn't just do what we did!" The sharp edges of the ring dug into my palm, reminding me I still held it. I stepped toward him, grabbed his hand, and shoved the ring into his palm. "A-anything near my work is off limits. That's a hard limit for me. Put it in your damn contract."

He captured my hand before I could escape. "That's what I was looking for, Hinata. Real thought. Real negotiation. An agreement you don't just live with, but embrace."

He released me and I felt shell-shocked. He's pushed me intentionally, intending to force me to see what I'd missed when making my decision to sign the agreement.

"Now," he said, "you can put the ring back on if you still think you're ready, Hinata-chan."

He didn't wait for my answer because he knew I wasn't. He headed to the door and exited.

I stood there for I don't know how long, my thoughts a jumbled mess, before I forced myself to exit regardless of who might see me. There was only Ava, who stared at me with unabashed interest.

I rushed to my table and grabbed my things before heading back to the gallery to put my thoughts on paper.

My backside still burns, and it reminds me that this decision to give myself to him does comes with consequences, just as disobeying him apparently does. Yes, those consequences arouse me, but I barely recognize this person that is me, who finds spanking hot and sexy.

But I did. I do. I'm scared to death that I'm losing touch with myself. Am I truly ready for this relationship?

The ring is sitting on my desk and I haven't put it back on. I'm not sure I'm going to. I'm not even sure I'm allowed to. I dread tonight's event, one that I would normally look forward to. It's a huge open house for Georgia O'Nay, a brilliant local artist receiving critical acclaim. It's an exciting event with an impressive list of attendees, but all I can think is that everyone who is anyone will be here, including him.

I'd actually rather go home and think and process where I'm headed in this new life, rather than attend a magical art showing.

What is happening to me? What's wrong with you Hinata?

_Midnight_

_Finally home..._

Georgia O'Nay is thirty-five, with long, sleek black hair and gorgeous pearl-like skin, and the talent of a goddess. It didn't surprise me that she drew a wall-busting crowd. The event had spectacular desserts, expensive champagne, and great art. It was pure heaven for art lovers. It should have been for me, but it wasn't.

All the local artists who show in the gallery were present. Kiba Inuzuka and Sasuke Uchiha were crowd favorites. Sasuke, unlike the rest of the guests, who were in suits (Kiba included(, was a rebel in black jeans and a leather jacket. When he stood next to Naruto, the contrast in the two men was extreme but the power and sex radiating off them both was overwhelming.

It bothered me that "he" spent a lot of time by Georgia's side. I tried not to let it. I really did. In my defense, I was feeling insecure after the entire ring situation. But what really set me off was the concrete block of realization that hit me as I admired her work. Georgia paints flowers. Roses mostly. Yes. Roses. How could I not connect his attention to her to the design of the ring? How could anyone not in a similar situation? Had she been his sub at some point? Did he help her launch her career? And if so, what happened between them? Why did they part ways? Or had they parted ways? Am I just a side dish?

During one moment when the two of them appeared rather intimate, my stomach actually churned. I wondered then, again, what was happening to me. How had I gone from being the girl who needed no one to feeling such intense need for one man? I suddenly felt that this new life was controlling me, not the other way around.

Needing air, I rushed for the back door. The instant I stepped outside into the chilly San Francisco night, I inhaled deeply, yet I still felt like I couldn't breathe. I hugged myself, the little lace vest I'd put on for the evening doing nothing to warm me.

Then the door opened behind me and I whirled around, shocked to see him standing there. And damn him, no matter how inadequate he'd made me feel inside the gallery, his presence still washed over me with a consuming, all-powerful burn. I resented it, not wanting him to have that power over me.

Before I knew his intention, he pulled me around a corner so that we were out of the line of sight of the door. He pressed me against the wall, the warm glow of a lamp fixture casting us in its light, his thighs hugging mine. His fingers framed my face. "You're upset. I don't want you to be upset."

"H-how funny," I said bitterly, "I didn't-didn't think what I felt mattered to you."

His thumb caressed my cheek. "You're confused. As your Master, Hinata, my greatest desire and responsibility is your pleasure, happiness and safety. Believe it. To upset you is to fail you. Now," he said, stroking the hair from my face, "tell me what's wrong."

For the second time today, embarrassment assailed me. I could still feel my face getting super warm. I buried my face in his chest in order for him not to see my humiliating cherry-face. He wasn't letting me escape. He lifted my face, forcing my gaze back to his cerulean orbs. "Tell me what's wrong, Hinata-chan."

My hands went to his hands and he let me touch him. So often, he doesn't. It calmed me enough to confess my feelings. "E-everything. Everything is wrong. You-you didn't contact me all morning and I was in knots wondering what you thought. T-then you made me take the ring off. Do you-do you even know what a big deal it-it was for me to have signed that contract? Do you know how much it ripped me apart when you rejected what I offered you?"

"No matter how much I want you to be mine, Hinata, to let you sign when you aren't ready would be assuring our agreement will fail. I don't want that to happen. I don't want this-this to fail."

His voice is raspy, thick with emotion, and I want to believe he feels something for me. Anything. Actually, I know he feels something for me. But what does a man like him feel? A need to possess some new toy, and I'm that toy? Perhaps even a passionate need to possess that toy? And while I'm no Cinderella looking for a Prince Charming, nor a damsel looking for a hero, while standing there with him, I had a sense that I will always want more from him than he will ever give me.

"Why didn't you just say you wanted to understand more, rather than taking me in that restroom today?" I asked, trying to understand him.

"Because while I am willing to give you more time before you sign the agreement, I admit that I am impatient to make our agreement official. Before that happens, you have to understand what's in the contract, including the rules."

"And the punishments," I added.

"Yes."

"How... intense does punishment get?"

He stared down at me, his eyes searching mine, and then he shocked me by leaning in and tenderly brushing his lips over mine. "As I said in the restroom, I will push you to your limit, Hinata, but I will always leave you thoroughly pleasured."

This gentles in him, contrasting the hardness I so often saw, softened my worries, but there was still one thing I couldn't let go. "And Georgia. did you-did you leave her thoroughly pleasured?"

He pulled back to stare at me with widened eyes, genuine shock on his face. "Georgia?"

"She paints roses. Was the ring once hers? And are you still involved with her? B-b-because if you are, I'm done. I-I won't be-"

He laughed, a sexy, sweet, surprising sound from a man so serious. "No, no. It was never her ring. I've never been intimate with Georgia, nor do I intend to be." His voice softened and his gaze heated t scorching. "Just you, Hinata-chan. This relationship will be exclusive as along as we have a written agreement. Understand?"

I nodded, but I wasn't totally relieved. We would never be exclusive when he was willing to share me.

"Even if it kills me in the process," he continued, "we'll take this slowly, as I intended. I'll teach you what each point in the contract means. Then we will negotiate the final terms. But know this. When you put that ring back on, there will be no holding back for either of us. You will belong to me."

But will he belong to me? And why was I afraid to ask?

Probably because, deep, deep, very deep down, I know the answer... and I don't want to accept it. This powerful man will never belong to me nor anyone for that matter.

he stroked my cheek again, tenderness in the touch. "We should get back before we're missed," he said, and I agreed.

An hour later, I ended up huddled in a chat with Naruto and three amazing artists. Could I really be standing with Kiba Inuzuka, Sasuke Uchiha, and Georgia O'Nay? Sasuke, Naruto, and I chatted a bit about a charity event that I'm handling for Sasuke, and we set up a meeting for the next day. Remarkably, considering my first reaction to her presence, I bonded with Georgia quickly, much as I had with Kiba, and she turned out to be as nice as she was talented and beautiful. I think I just get artists. I connect with them. Despite all that Naruto does for the art world, I'm not sure he always does.

I took a cab home at the gallery's expense. The entire staff did since Naruto won't let anyone drive after a gallery event that includes alcohol, and this one had. I'd barely walked in the door when my would-be Master texted me.

**_You Decide when the next lesson is. Call me when you're ready._**

I don't know when I'll be ready. Part of me says now of me says I might never be. Yet I'd been downright excited to sign the contract this morning. Now I'm not sure of anything.

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><p><em>Wednesday, March 16, 2011<em>

Hot bath. Pajamas. My own bed. What more could I want? Ah, but I know: him. I want to call him. I want to hear his voice and I want... so much. But it's the wrong choice. I know this. I've been singing this song to myself all day, reminding myself of the need to think things through and make rational choices. Right now I need to figure out who I am, because somehow I've lost myself along the way. I should be upset that he spanked me. Instead, I'm upset that he thinks I need more lessons.

I'm trying to process this. I keep replaying the situation, and my way of thinking, and demanding I look beyond the surface of what I feel. Logic. I need logic. He's trying to make sure I'm ready for the next step between us and that I won't regret my decision. Why does this upset me?

Okay. This is where I need to be honest with myself. As much as I've sworn I do not want a relationship, or the strings and heartache that go with one, this man is under my skin. I feel myself falling hard for him and looking for signs that he's falling for me, too. It's insanity. I'm a contract, a responsibility. A possession to him. He should be nothing but pleasure and the escape he has promised me he will be. And that is all he has promised.

It should be enough. It has to be enough before I allow myself back under his control, even for another encounter.

That means I need to take a few days to decide if I really can do this. I need to find myself again, the me that doesn't need anyone. The me that understands I'm the only one I have to count on in this world. The me that will allow him to pleasure me and expect nothing else in return, because expecting more from people just means heartache.

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><p><strong>Seriously this is the longest chapter I've written so far in this story..<strong>

If there was any misspelling I apologize, my human eyes couldn't detect it ):

Ihope you guys enjoyed!

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Until next week! ;)


	7. Chapter 7

Hinata's Lost Journal's

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><p><em><em>

_Thursday, March 17, 2011_

Lunchtime...

I walked into the gallery this morning determined to make it about art. If anything can bring me back to me, that's it. Once I arrived at work, though, I discovered Naruto was dealing with off-site business and probably wouldn't be in all day. I felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. I know the rest of the staff is relieved when he's gone, too. He always creates a subtle tension in the air, but he also creates a raw energy that excites the entire building and the people inside, even if they don't realize it. I need that energy today.

In his absence I turned to caffeine. I was just leaving the kitchen with a full cup of coffee when Temari, my fellow rep, and "frenemy" as Lee has called her, knocked into me. The contents of the cup splattered everywhere, including down the front of my-fortunately black-dress. She apologized profusely and swore it was an accident, but it wasn't. I'd thought things had improved after she'd had a meeting with Naruto last week and become friendlier, but apparently her friendliness was short-lived. She simply hates me for existing and I can't control that. There is a lot I can't seem to control lately.

_3:00 p.m._

The gallery was sealed off to customers about an hour ago to allow the removal of the art from our personal office walls, because apparently it's part of Naruto's personal collection. He must be even richer than I realized to own as impressive a collection as this one. I'd thought the pieces belonged to the gallery since his family also owns Riptide, one of the largest auction houses on the planet. Anyway, it turns out that once a year, Naruto replaces the art and invites elite customers in for exclusive showings. The event is highly anticipated.

With the gallery shut for the art removal, I decided to head to the coffee shop for a caramel macchiato and was surprised to find Sasuke, Ava, and Georgia standing at the counter deep in conversation. Sasuke's longish raven hair was rumpled, as if he'd been running his hands through it while working, and there was this devastatingly attractive energy about him that, based on how enthralled they looked as he spoke, clearly Ava and Georgia spellbound. I waited in line to order, and my attention went to Georgia. Her beauty next to Ava's, had me feeling very ordinary. All my fears that Georgia has inspired the ring came back to me.

Sasuke's gaze lifted, and his brows dipped. I knew he'd seen something on my face, and thankfully it was my turn to order, which gave me an escape from his scrutiny. I have no idea what he saw on my expression-but too much, for sure. He and Naruto both saw too much. But then, Sasuke is an artist, a man who studies details. What did I expect?

Once I placed my order and turned back to the group, I found that Sasuke had disappeared back to his table and Ava was attending to a customer. Georgia greeted me with such a friendly smile that it was hard to remember why I'd felt uncomfortable a few minutes before. Apparently she'd stopped in for coffee on her way to a meeting with Lee to go over the prior night's sales and receipts.

We chatted on the short walk back and I asked her about the famous artist Georgia O'Keefe and the similarities in their work and names. Turns out O'Keefe was her idol. Georgia had learned about their names both being Georgia (not an overly common name, she pointed out) when she'd taken an elective art class just to get the easy credit. The deeper she'd gotten into the semester, the more certain she'd been that their names were no coincidence but a sign she was meant to be an artist. Georgia's story inspired me and, for the first time in days when I walked into the gallery, I felt a sense of rightness in being there. This was were I belonged. The art, this place, was me. Is me.

That was a few minutes ago, and already the feeling has faltered. The instant I sat down behind my desk I found myself staring at the empty wall where the painting had been removed, and I knew it couldn't just be the art I love, nor could I hide behind it. Taking this job, daring to do what I'd dreamed of, had been, and is, about living life, finding myself.

And there are more parts to me, things I've only just discovered, and the things I want to discover. I am still the same girl that walked in here: an art enthusiast who was waiting tables, and who dared to make my college major a career. But I am also the woman who'd stood in the coffee shop restroom and been aroused by a spanking. I want to know all parts of me. I have to know myself to control my life and destiny. But does that mean "he" is the right man to help me make that journey?

That's what I have to decide.

_9:00 p.m._

Last night is repeating itself. Hot bath. Pajamas. My own bed. And again I ask, what more could a girl want? The answer is the same. Him. I clearly need to rethink my strategy, as I am in the same place as before. I feel mentally exhausted. I don't want to think about contracts, or rings, or why it hurt when that ring was given back to me, though I'm pretty sure it means that I haven't made this about sex and escape-what I vowed last night it had to be, in order to move forward with him.

Now I've been spanked, and I like it. Not every girl can write that in her journal. And on that note, I'm going to bed and to sleep. Tomorrow I'll figure the rest out. Tomorrow, it will make sense.

_11:00 p.m._

So much for getting some sleep. Toneri, the conservative, good-looking, safe investment banker I dated a few times, started calling me over and over right after I lay down to sleep, and he won't stop. He's drunk and out of control and I don't want to call the police, but I'm starting to think I have to. After he showed up at my work a week ago, and now this, I'm feeling very nervous about what he might do next.

I tried to bluff and threatened to call the police if he called again. He called again. I'm fighting the urge to shove things in front of my door for protection. I don't think Toneri would hurt me, but I don't think he was capable of anything he's done either, and we only dated a few times. My phone is ringing again...

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><p><em>Friday, March 18, 2011<em>

Late afternoon, home again...

I don't really know where to begin writing, considering all that has happened since last night and what my plans for tomorrow night might involve. But I know I want to get my thoughts down on paper so I can look back at this and know how I was feeling before it took place.

I'll start with last night, when Toneri was calling me and harassing me. I don't know how it's possible, but my would-be Master and self-proclaimed keeper of my happiness and safety called right after Toneri had just called me a whore and told me he was coming over. The sound of my would-be Master's voice set something off inside me, and I'd gushed out of a confession about what was going on. The next thing I knew, "he" was on his way to pick me up and rescue me from Toneri. I didn't need or want to be rescued, and I regretted telling him about Toneri. I didn't feel ready to see him-not alone, not in his home and his bed. But there's no fighting him. He'd made a decision to pick me up and I knew he wasn't going to be stopped.

He arrived at my door fifteen minutes later, with me a nervous wreck. But when I opened the door and found him standing there in jeans and a snug-fitting orange T-shirt, looking casual and sexy, the power oozing off him, I wanted to wrap my arms around him. I didn't, though. I knew I couldn't touch him until he touched me. But his eyes met mine and it's like he just knew how much I needed to feel him close.

He pulled me into his arms, molding me against his hard body, and buried his face in my hair. I heard him inhale my scent and then he whispered, "I'm here."

I'm here. The simple words resonated on some deep level I needed them to. No one else was there for me in my life. Only him. It scared me that I felt I needed him, when earlier I'd been so certain that I would always want more from him than he would for me. Or, maybe, more on a different level is a better definition. I know he'll push me to places I might not even think I can go, but I am almost certain I will never have the power to push him to places he wouldn't otherwise go without me. He won't ever need me. He will need power, and I think that my need for him is exactly that. His power. His power over me. Standing at my door, I told myself he was just pleasure and an escape, even safety for the evening, and I wanted to believe it, but I knew then, and I know now, that it wasn't true.

We left my apartment and had just made it to his fancy sports car when Toneri showed up.

"Who the hell are you?" Toneri demanded of him.

In a flash, Toneri was against the car and my would-be Master said something low to him that I couldn't hear. Toneri paled and then said something back before handing over his keys to "him." I stood there hugging myself, shivering from the cold night air and the intensity of the situation. More low words were exchanged, and when Toneri was finally set free he apologized to me, looking like a whipped puppy, before he went to sit in his car.

My would-be Master ushered me into his warm car and, once he joined me, said, "Toneri won't be bothering you again."

He wouldn't say it if he didn't mean it. "You took his car keys," I commented. "How will he get home?"

"He made the choice to drink and drive. Let him figure that one out."

I couldn't argue that point.

Fifteen minutes later we entered his home, and I remembered the spicy, woodsy scent-his scent-warming me all over. This place felt safe. It was a moment of revelation. Isn't that feeling exactly why I was able to allow him to spank me and be aroused, rather than frightened or angry? Though I'd been mad, it was about the location, not the spanking. I don't, and won't, allow my job to be affected by our relationship.

He led me to his living room, and I felt a kind of vulnerability from my need for him that I wished then, and even now, that he couldn't create in me. But I was alone with him and he was gentle in a way he'd been that night he'd come to my apartment, the night when I'd freaked out over my first reading of the contract. That felt right and good-until I saw that we weren't alone at all. The other man who'd been here before, who we'd been with, was standing by the crackling fireplace, holding a glass of wine.

"From what I hear, you need this," he said, lifting the glass to offer it to me.

My would-be Master stepped behind me, his hands sliding to my waist, his mouth lowering near my ear, "Go take the wine."

"No, I-"

"It's just a glass of wine, Hinata-chan," he said. "It'll calm your nerves."

It wasn't just a glass of wine, and we both knew it. It was the first step to more. Even so, after a moment of hesitation, I stepped forward, moving slowly, cautiously toward the other man. I stopped in front of him and he handed me the glass. He was as gorgeous as I remembered, tall and dark, the opposite of my would-be Master.

I'd blinked at the man whose name I did not even know, the air crackling like the fire behind him. He wanted me. I didn't want to want him, but there was this sexual tension in the room that was almost like a living creature. It was as hungry as his eyes told me he was. I knew that if I let it happen, I would be submissive to both men. This man would be Master Two, submissive only to Master One.

I accepted the wine and sipped it, letting the bittersweet liquid slide down my throat, welcoming the numbing effect it would offer. Master Two reached down and stroked my hair behind my ear. "Beautiful," he whispered.

I don't consider myself beautiful, but the way he looked at me and the way he said it, all rough and husky, as if he meant it, made me feel as if I was. My body heated, and I remembered him touching me once before, the way his mouth had intimately licked and kissed me all over. The way he had thrust inside me.

Master One, the man who'd consumed me inside and out, stepped behind me again. It was him I truly responded to, his touch tingling through my body, heating my blood.

"Yes," he agreed softly, his fingers trailing down my arms, creating goose bumps on my skin. "Beautiful."

It was all I could do not to lean into him and become lost in his touch, but once I did that, once I forgot everything but him, there wouldn't be only him. There would be them-both men. It bothered me to be shared, and yet it aroused me.

I knew that I had completely lost control of myself again. I downed the wine, and shoved the glass at Master Two before I turned to Master One. "Why did you call me tonight, when you told me the contact you when I was ready for this?"

His fingers stroked down my hair. "What's important is that I did, and you needed me."

That wasn't the answer I wanted, though I have no idea what I had wanted him to say. Just not that. "I can take care of myself."

He laced his fingers in mine and pulled me to the couch. "Did you know," he asked, sitting down and settling me on the cushion beside him, "that putting yourself in danger is forbidden in our contract? In fact, it's grounds for punishment."

Nerves slammed into me immediately. His spanking me had bee one thing. I trusted him in ways I didn't try to understand. But I did not trust Master Two. I didn't know him. "You-you want to punish me again?" I asked.

His fingers wrapped around my neck and he brought my mouth to his. "Punishment is between you and me. Only you and me."

A small amount of tension eased from my body. "Then why is he here?"

Because I want every drop of pleasure I can get from you. I want to taste it. I want to touch it." His lips brushed mine, his fingers caressing one of my breasts. "I want to feel it when your body tightens around me and quakes because I've fucked you so well."

My sex clenched, but I wasn't ready to cave in to passion. "A-And yet you want to share me." Just saying the words twisted me in knots.

he leaned back to look at me, his gaze probing mine. "When he's fucking you, touching you, and licking you, Hinata-chan, I can watch every little nuance of how it affects you. It's like a window into your pleasure that allows me to not only give you more, but also be the best Master I can be. I can't do that when your hot little body is squeezing my cock into oblivion. So, let him fuck you. Let him please you. Let us give you the escape I can feel you craving."

It wasn't the answer I expected. In fact, it was everything I didn't expect, and yet everything I needed to hear. It was incredibly arousing-freeing, even. "Yes," I whispered, and my reward was his mouth closing on mine.

Master Two sat down behind me, his hand settling possessively on my hip, and this time I didn't resist him. This time I gave in to the pleasure that I knew this night could hold. They touched me, undressed me, undressed themselves. I was naked with those two gorgeous men, and they took turns kissing me, licking me. There wasn't a part of me they didn't touch, they didn't own.

At nearly one in the morning, I lay in bed and listened as he said good-bye to Master Two. I wondered who he was, this other Master, I wondered what came next. I'd read some BDSM sites that talked about the Master wanting the sub to sleep on the floor or at his feet. That wasn't me, and I realized just how foolish blind signing that contract had been.

The uncertainty I felt quickly brought back every one of my doubts I'd left in the living room earlier in the evening. I sat up, intending to dress, only to realize my clothes were in the other room. He appeared in the doorway then, jeans unzipped and hanging low on his lean hips, and sauntered over to me, before removing them as I watched, It was hard to think with him naked, and I wondered if he knew that.

He joined me on the bed and pulled me into his arms, my back to his chest, his lips to my ear. "Get some rest, Hinata-chan. That's an order."

All thoughts of leaving faded into the bliss of being held by him. "I told you, I don't take orders well," I murmured, but the truth was that I was exhausted. "I'm pretty sure that makes me a bad candidate for your sub."

"You don't take orders well, but I like a challenge," he agreed. I almost felt him smile against my hair, but he isn't much on smiling, so surely not. And there had been no smile in his voice as he'd sternly added, "Go to sleep, Hinata."

I don't remember what came next. Apparently, I did as ordered and went to sleep.

Friday had become Saturday at 2:00 a.m., or that's when I remember looking at the clock next...

I gasped and then blinked awake to find myself alone in his bedroom, and it only took me seconds to realize I'd had one of my nightmare again. Every time I thought they were gone, they came back. I was shaking all over, and I sat up and tugged the blanket up with me, thick darkness consuming the room, feeling as icy as the San Francisco Bay water. This nightmare was different from the others, I realized. My mother wasn't actually trying to kill me this time.

Instead of being on a trolley that loses control and slams into the ocean, I was already in the water, or wasn't really there. I was in the bay, only I wasn't in the bay. I was me, and yet I wasn't me. I know that makes no sense at all. I thought writing it down would make it more logical, but it isn't working. How do I describe what a shifting, odd nightmare is like? It was like... like one of those movies where someone dies and they end up watching the hospital staff try to bring them back to life from above, wherever above is. That's how this nightmare flowed. I could see myself floating facedown in the choppy waters, my dark hair spread out on the surface.

My mother was there, too, floating facedown just like me, both of us unmoving, lifeless. I figure the fact that she is already dead has some meaning; perhaps my mind is trying to tell me I'm going to end up like her. I'm not sure if that means dead or unhappy. And I'm not sure where I was watching from. I never saw myself watching me, or rather us, but I felt the water, the ice, the emptiness. I was dead in the water, but the part of me was watching was alive and I wanted to stay alive. I tried to scream and get to myself and my mother, but I couldn't make a sound. I tried to move but an invisible box confined me. I was trapped, incapable of saving myself or my mother, though it was illogical to think I could we were already dead.

What makes a person whose dead mother was never anything but gentle have these kinds of violent nightmares? Uncertainty? Uneasiness? A sense of being out of control of my life? Isn't that what my mother always preached? Control my life, so no one else could?

These were my thoughts when "he" returned. The door opened and he entered, and I didn't care where he's been or why he'd been gone. I just knew what had to happen. "We need to talk about the contract," I blurted out.

He flipped on the light. "Then let's talk," he agreed, sauntering forward. He was back to those sexy, low-hung jeans and nothing else. Soon he'd be naked if I didn't stop him.

I held up my hand, staying his approach. "N-not here. Not in the bed, I want to get dressed and talk about our agreement for what it is: a contract. I want to go down it liny by line, item by item."

He glanced at the clock. "At 2:00 a.m.?"

"Yes. Now."

Fifteen minutes later, fully dressed in the clothes we'd started this night out in, we sat at the table in a kitchen that was pretty much the size of my apartment. Oddly, his money didn't intimidate me, even though I'd never had any of my own. His money didn't attract me, either. He did.

I broke the silence. "I won't sleep on the floor or at your feet. I won't wear a collar. Ever. I know that's big in the BDSM world, but it's not me. You won't collar me."

"Fine on the floor and I don't want you at my feet. I prefer you in my bed, where I can fuck you at will. A collar is simply ownership, but to me it's more like marriage-I do not collar anyone. What's next?"

More confirmation that this is simply a short-term agreement to him. Fine, then, I was going to make sure it was very short-term. "Three months, not six."

"Six months."

"Three."

"Four, but if we decide to renew our agreement after that, I want the contract modified to include things I might want added or taken out."

"And the things I might want added or taken out," I countered.

His lips curved ever so slightly. "Of course."

"I don't know what a cane or caning is, so take it out."

"Try it first."

"No. No more trying. I need to do this now or not do it at all. That's what I need you to understand. We have to come up with an agreement I can sign tonight, or there is no agreement."

"Signing before you're ready-"

"I am ready."

He stared at me far too long for my comfort before he said, " I want you, Hinata, but once I have you, I plan to push you. I can't do that if I'm afraid you'll crumble."

"You-you think I can't handle this. You think I can't handle you."

"I'm not sure you think you can handle this."

I pushed to my feet and he stood up as well. "I'm out," I stated. "You're right. I can't do this- but not for the reasons you imply, Naruto. I like to control my life, and I don't do well when I can't." I laughed without humor. "That sounds ridiculous, when I'm negotiating a contract to be a submissive."

"It's not ridiculous. A choice to hand over control under agreed-upon terms is not only control itself, but the freedom to let go and escape reality when you otherwise wouldn't."

"Then you have to see that lessons and uncertainty are the opposite to me. It's affecting my job and sleep. It's making me crazy."

He stepped around the chair and pulled me close. "If you want to sign, we will, but on one condition."

"And what would be?" I held my breath, waiting for the answer.

"One last lesson. The ultimate lesson. When it's over, if you want to sign, we'll sign."

This was a test. "When?"

"Tonight. I'll pick you up at nine."

_Lunchtime..._

He tried to get me to talk about my nightmares but I quickly withdrew and asked to go home. Reluctantly, he agreed. Maybe that was my test for him. I need to know he won't push me when I don't want to be pushed, and he seemed to understand this was one of those times. I can't talk to him about my personal things and still make him about pleasure and escape. I'm not big on sharing my personal feelings anyway, and my mother, and the things I learned form her before her death, are as personal as it gets. I'm already struggling with my feelings for him, which give him even more power over me than any contract ever will.

He'd taken me home as I'd requested so I could try to sleep a few hours before work. I was remarkably exhausted and I'd fallen sleep almost immediately.

Even so, I was forced to stop by the coffee shop before work for a caffeine boost. Inside I found Kiba Inuzuka waiting for a drink, looking aristocratic and debonair in a fitted suit. Oddly, he was in deep conversation with Temari, whom Lee had said Kiba didn't care for.

What is it about the coffee bar that was inviting meetings these days?

I ordered my drink and joined them.

"Ah, Bella," Kiba purred. "Just the lady I wanted to see. Your customer dropped by my gallery and purchased several pieces. We need to do the paperwork for your commission."

My eyes went wide. "You're kidding." I was elated. When I'd taken the woman to his private showing she'd been embarrassingly hesitant to buy. "That's such good news."

"Congratulations to you both," Temari said tightly. "I'll let you two talk." She glanced at Kiba. "I'll bring the painting over tonight." She slipped away toward the door.

I frowned, wondering what that was about as Kiba accepted his coffee from Ava, saying something to her in Spanish before turning back to me. "Shall we go share the good news with your boss?"

I smiled. "Yes, of course. Let's share it."

An hour later, Kiba had gone and Naruto appeared in my doorway, electrifying the air as he always did. "That painting you found in Seattle-the guy sold it to me for a steal. We're going to make a fortune at auction, Hinata-chan."

I was stunned. Even now, I can't believe the sale came through. My commission is going to be... I can't even write down what I estimate it will be. Instinctively, I knew Naruto would use my excitement for control. He plays the control card with everyone in the gallery.

"That's fantastic news," I said managing to sound cool and calm. "I can't wait to find out how well it sells."

His lips twitched. "Seems like today is your lucky day, Ms. Hyuga. Feel free to continue that trend. It's good for the gallery, and so, it seems, are you." He left in a whiff of spicy male wonderfulness, leaving me basking in his rare compliment.

I smiled. He was right. I'd just closed two huge sales; today was my lucky day. I just hope the night is, as well.

* * *

><p>I want to apologize for taking so long to update. I will try to update as soon as possible. Sorry.<p>

On the bright side, you guys already, officially know who the Master is ;)

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